Recovery: V Plague Book 8 by Dirk Patton

with
Pearl.  Use them as my eye in the sky.  How do we stay in contact?”
    “The Bradley
has comm gear,” the Colonel responded.  “Blanchard issued an FSOC unit to them
before they headed out to find you and there’s also HF radios on board.”
    “Then why
haven’t we been able to reach them?”  I asked.
    “We’ll
figure that out when we catch up with them,” he said, pushing his chair back
and standing.  “Shall we get moving?”
    We all stood
and I tossed some scraps to Dog who snatched them out of the air without
bothering to stand. 
    “Let’s go
get Rachel, boy.”  I said to him, scratching his ears as I walked past.  He
jumped to his feet and raced up the stairs ahead of me.
    I took a
moment to situate my vest, adjusting it to a comfortable fit.  It had been
soaked with sweat, covered in blood and dirt was ground in to every fiber.  I
had washed it as best I could and it now only stank badly enough for me to
notice if I took a deep breath.
    “Ready?”  I
asked Katie as I loaded the last full magazine into a pouch.
    “For a road
trip?  You bet!”  She smiled, checking her rifle over.  “Remember the last time
we drove across the country?  We came back married.  Wanna stop in Vegas and
see if that preacher in the blue leisure suit is still around?  Renew our
vows?”
    I looked at
her, not sure if she was just being flip or if there was some insecurity over
us going off to save Rachel.  Not that Katie wouldn’t be the first to say we
had to go help her but that didn’t mean there wasn’t concern over what might
come once we found Rachel.  Not surprisingly she read me like a book, knowing
exactly what I was thinking.
    “Just trying
to lighten the mood,” she said.  “Let’s go get your girlfriend.”
    “Hey,” I
started to say, but she and Martinez both burst out in laughter.
    “You are so
easy,” Katie said.  “My mother was right about you.”
    “Right about
what?”
    “You
ready?”  Katie turned to Martinez and they headed for the stairs, completely
ignoring me.
    Shaking my
head and grumbling I took a last look around to ensure we weren’t leaving
anything behind that we might need.  Not seeing anything I followed the two
women up the stairs and out onto the roof.  Colonel Crawford was standing by
the Huey, burning cigarette in hand as he spoke on the sat phone.  He ended the
call as we approached.
    “Here,” he
said, holding the device out to Martinez.  “Petty Officer Simmons is sending
their current coordinates.”
    “That’s
good, sir, but there’s not exactly a nav computer in this old war horse to plug
them into.” 
    “Shit,”
Crawford mumbled.  “We’ve all gotten too goddamn used to technology.  Or maybe that’s
just me.  How about I call her back and get a heading and distance?  Will that
suffice?”
    “Yes, sir. 
That will be perfect,” Martinez smiled and began walking around the Huey to perform
her pre-flight check.
    While she
inspected the aircraft I coiled up the hose we’d used for transferring fuel and
put it in the Huey.  Next came a pump, a smaller hose that would fit into a
vehicle’s filler neck as well as some tools I had gathered from the maintenance
shop.  I’d need to refuel whatever car or truck we found and didn’t expect the
power to be on at any gas station we stopped at. 
    With the
pump, which could run on a car’s electrical system, I’d be able to open the
access plate to a station’s storage tanks, drop a hose down the hole and pump
gas into my transportation’s fuel tank.  Less convenient than just pulling up
to the fuel island and swiping a credit card, but it would serve the purpose.
    By the time
Martinez was finished the Colonel wrapped up his call and gave her the
information she needed.  She nodded and climbed aboard, the rest of us
following.  I took a few minutes to get my improvised harness wrapped around
Dog and secured to the tether hanging from the ceiling.  He didn’t like it