“Miriam? Yeah, no, I’m here. Look, could you find out where the hospital is up here? It’s not showing up on my map. Yeah, send it to my account. Thanks.”
He flipped down the antenna on the phone and nodded to Kanady. “Okay, gather together everyone who’s not on watch. We’re going to have to split into three groups and move out.”
“Yes, sir.”
His tablet chirped, and he glanced down to check the update. Jones rolled his eyes as he noted where the hospital was.
Sure, list the electricity co-op, but don’t bother listing the hospital. Who puts these things together?
He knew that he’d have to send men to the schools, all three or four of the larger ones at least. The Search and Rescue office was another given, as was the sheriff’s office, but he would take the team to the hospital personally. If he was going to find people anywhere, that was the place he’d put his money on.
And he wanted to find some people, pronto. The sheer lack of any visible civilians was, quite frankly, creeping him out.
Captain Jones sighed, shutting his tablet down and securing it under his coat as he walked over to where his men were gathered.
Corporals Merrin and Jenner paced each other as they walked north, off the airfield and into the tundra that separated them from Barrow. They were angling more to the east than the state troopers had gone, heading for the aircraft park that seemed to be the focal point of the anomaly showing up on their NODs.
The slush and ice shed off their boots as they walked, but both men could feel the cold trying to seep in. They wanted nothing more than to get the mission done and head back to ALCOM, where they could at least be assured of a warm bed waiting for them after their work was done.
“You seeing anything?” Merrin asked, his Colt M4 poised at his shoulder as he looked through his NODs over the sights of the weapon.
“Just the same weird shit, man.” Jenner scowled under his own night-vision device. “You see that?”
“What?”
“Over by that parked plane.” Jenner pointed.
Merrin looked for a moment, then shook his head. “Don’t see anything. What was it?”
“I don’t know. Shadows. Jesus, I’m jumping at shadows.” Jenner spat, disgusted with himself.
“This mission is creepy — you said it earlier, man. Don’t sweat it.”
The two men made their way out of the field and onto the tarmac of the airplane park, heading toward a parked bush plane sitting next to a large hangar building. There weren’t many aircraft sitting around, but the few that were there certainly crossed the gamut of what one might expect to see. They spotted a Learjet some distance away, its nose poking out of an open hangar, something that some company CEO was going to tear his flight crew a new asshole over. Beyond that there were a couple Piper Cubs and older-model bush planes. There were more of them than someone from the southern states would expect, particularly considering the size of the airstrip.
This was Alaska, however, and flying was sometimes the only possible method of travel.
“Getting the glitch again, over by the Lear hangar,” Merrin said, sounding annoyed.
Jenner didn’t blame him — whatever the hell was causing this was getting on his last nerve too. He sighed. “All right, let’s check it out. If the place is clean we’ll file a report on the damn things and let the brass hash it out with the supplier.”
“Right.”
They turned and walked toward the plane hangar, both of them feeling beyond fed up with the situation. Jenner flipped the NODs up on his head, pulled a crookneck flashlight from his web gear, and thumbed it on.
He let his M4 hang from its straps and pulled the Beretta M9 from its holster instead as he ducked under the nose of the multimillion-dollar plane. Resting his gun hand on the wrist holding the flashlight, he began to sweep the hangar. The shadows were still playing with his head as he swept the area, making him think he saw movement, but this time he didn’t comment.
“Not seeing anything from here,” he called out to Merrin. “I’m going in.”
Merrin nodded behind him, his own carbine tucked into his shoulder. “I have you covered.”
“Right.”
Not that either of them expected this to come down to any actual shooting — there was something weird going on, sure, but they weren’t walking around Baghdad. Barrow, Alaska, was hardly going to be the site of a major firefight involving the US military anytime soon.
That said, both of them were creeped out, and nothing said comfort like a full-automatic weapon.
“Nothing in here,” Jenner said after sweeping the whole area. He shook his head as he turned and started back out. “I’m beginning to think that we’re dealing with some kind of weird environmental interference. Maybe there are some heating pipes under the runway here to prevent icing? Even if they’re turned off now, it could be messing with our gear a little. What do you think, man?”
When no immediate response was forthcoming, Jenner scowled and ducked under the Lear’s wing again.
“Yo!” he called. “Not funny, man! You okay?”
He walked out of the hangar and stopped, his flashlight beam resting on the Colt M4 that was lying on the ground. He holstered his M9 pistol and swung his own M4 into his arms, spinning around as he looked for any sign of his comrade.
“Merrin, you asshole, if you’re fucking with me, I swear to God I’m going to break your legs!” Jenner snarled, his eyes darting about, looking for something…anything at all.
The only response was silence and the distant howl of the wind.
Jenner backed away from the hangar, putting some asphalt between himself and any cover that could be used to sneak up on him before he pulled the radio from his belt.
“Command, Jenner.”
“Roger, Jenner. Go for command.”
“I’m out by the hangar with the interference, northeast of the Herky Bird,” he said, referring to the C-130 they’d flown in on. “I lost Merrin.”
“Say again, Jenner. Did you say you lost Corporal Merrin?”
“Damn it, yes, I lost him!” he growled into the radio, trying not to panic as he spoke. “I was clearing the hangar while he covered me from the outside, and when I got back he was gone, but his M4 was laying on the tarmac! Get me a squad up here, damn it!”
“All right, I’m sending a squad your way. If Merrin is screwing around, he’ll be cleaning latrines on a glacier when this is over.”
“Assuming that I don’t shoot him first myself,” Jenner growled, tucking his radio away. He wasn’t entirely joking — Merrin had best be in dire straights, because if this was some pathetic prank he was going to wake up in a snow bank some morning, minus his skivvies.
“Merrin!” Jenner hissed, walking slowly around the Learjet, which was the only thing for a few hundred feet big enough to hide behind.
Or in.
He leveled his weapon at the open door of the jet, scowling suspiciously at it. The stairs were extended, of course, so he started climbing the short distance to the plane’s cabin. At the top he once again let his rifle rest on the straps, pushing it around to his back as he drew the Berretta and ducked into the enclosed space.
“US Army!” he called, scanning the interior with his eyes and pistol. “Show yourselves. Merrin, if you’re in here, come out before you really start to piss me off.”
Nothing.
He cleared the main cabin, scowling more with every passing moment, then checked the cockpit. It was empty, and nothing was out of order — the whole thing looked like it had come straight out of the factory.