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  “Anything else?” Xiou inquired.

  “Oh yeah, they want an immediate report as to why we are moving towards Blue Mountain,” Jerry replied.

  “They are tracking your array,” Xiou asked suspiciously.

  “Of course,” Jerry answered. “It has a GPS locator. I wouldn’t worry; they can’t do anything to stop us now. They would shit if they knew we were working together! I’d love to see Sharpe’s face when he finds out,” Jerry laughed.

  “Yes, that would be most amusing,” Xiou agreed with a short laugh. He ordered his men back into line, and turned to Jerry. “Let’s go, Agent Foster, we may have attracted the cadaver’s attention.”

  “Okay,” Jerry agreed, shouldering his array.

  They moved slowly through the darkness, the narrow beams from their flashlights picking out the dim green trees, and shining down the long dark avenues between their enormous trunks. A light but steady rain began to fall; fat drops of warm water dripped from the canopy overhead, and pattered among the broad leaves. Jerry was much too tired to care about getting a little wet. He just plodded along, trying not to let his imagination populate the darkness around him with monsters. He knew the real ones were out there, searching for him in the darkened steaming jungle. That was bad enough.

  The column of men wound their way forward to the south. The ground began to rise up as they entered the mountains, and the terrain got progressively rougher. Jerry felt like he was climbing one long, rocky hill. His leg muscles burned and ached with the additional effort. He forced himself to walk on.

  They moved forward for several hours without encountering any cadavers. The sounds of the jungle slowly returned as they walked along.

  Just at dawn, the rain stopped, and Xiou brought the group to a halt again. He detailed four men to form a perimeter guard, and called for a short rest. Everyone else gratefully dropped their packs, turned off their flashlights, and sat down on the muddy ground.

  Angel immediately broke out his stove and began to boil water for tea. Jerry noticed that two of the Chinese soldiers were doing the same. He mused that sometimes the simplest things transcended nationalities and rivalries.

  Jerry took the opportunity to speak with Angel. He dropped down on the muddy ground beside him and gave the guide a sad smile.

  Angel sprinkled tea leaves into the water, crushing them between his thick fingers. The pleasant aroma filled the moist morning air.

  “Where are we going, Jerry?” the guide asked quietly.

  Jerry looked carefully around. Xiou sat nearby, reclining against a tree, his eyes half shut for a moment. No one was watching him closely.

  “Fix me a cup of tea,” Jerry suggested. He knew at least one of the Chinese had been detailed to watch him. He carefully pulled a folded topo map from his shoulder bag and held it flat against his stomach, his index finger pressed against the map. He leisurely leaned in and took an empty cup from Angel with his other hand.

  The guide slowly poured him tea; his eyes went from the map to Jerry’s face. He nodded his head.

  Jerry unhurriedly sat back down with his tea. He slid the map back into his bag. As far as he could tell, no one had noticed.

  Angel and Jerry sat and sipped their tea as the darkness gradually faded around them. The sun rose in the east, and the new day began.

  Vogan and Madduk joined them. They sat in a rough circle: each man drank hot tea and ate a meager breakfast of bananas and oranges. As they finished, Xiou arose and walked over to them. He stood looking down; his tired face an unreadable mask. Only his dark eyes betrayed any emotion, and they hinted only of the calculations and machinations of his thoughts.

  “We have covered roughly twenty-eight kilometers, twenty or so of your miles, Agent Foster. Will we reach our goal today? My men are very tired, as am I,” Xiou grumbled.

  “I’m not exactly fresh, my damn self,” Jerry retorted. “But I think we’re doing good. We should reach Blue Mountain before dark if we press on hard.”

  Jerry stood up; everyone else did the same. Xiou looked at him expectantly.

  Finally, Jerry pulled out his topo map, unfolded it completely, and looked at it for a moment. “Take us to the southeast,” he commanded Angel.

  The two guides went back out on point as before, and the Chinese reformed their column. Xiou marched along with Jerry and Vogan, glancing at them from time to time. They entered the mountains proper, a remote region with no roads and no villages. The trees here were old growth mahogany, green with age, ancient and massive, their dark slimy trunks covered in thick vines and creepers. Everyone walked silently along through the ancient brooding forest.

  The ground climbed steep rocky hills and then dropped away into valleys, only to climb out again. Everyone began to sweat and their progress began to slow. Xiou began to shout curses in Chinese, urging his men on to better speed. Jerry began to falter; he was the weak link in the column. He quickly soaked his clean uniform with stinking sweat as he huffed along, attempting to match the soldiers’ pace. Vogan helped the struggling agent as the way climbed hills, pulling him by his shirt. Everyone began to curse the rough terrain.

  Xiou grew more animated as they progressed; he knew they had to be close. The Chinese agent only allowed a short rest at midday, setting a perimeter guard as before.

  Jerry collapsed, panting and drained. He quickly drank a bottle of water that Vogan brought him, and lay groaning in the mud, too exhausted to move. His inner thighs were chafed, and his leg muscles were screaming. Vogan sat down beside him with a grim chuckle.

  “Agent Foster, you really should exercise more often,” he offered.

  “Fuck off, Vogan,” Jerry weakly responded, waving him away.

  “Are we close?” Vogan asked.

  “Yeah,” Jerry wheezed. “Good thing, too. I can’t go much further.”

  Xiou allowed Jerry twenty minutes, then demanded the agent get back on his feet. Two soldiers came to assist him when he had trouble rising. Vogan took him from them, and limped Jerry in a circle until his legs recovered enough to walk on his own.

  The column reformed and proceeded steadily onward through the trees. Angel led them to the southeast for another two hours, then came back and walked beside Jerry and Xiou.

  “Where now, boss?” Angel asked. “There are two valleys before us.”

  Xiou was paying close attention to them; he listened attentively.

  “The left,” Jerry replied.

  Angel loped away to retake the lead.

  “Are we close?” Xiou asked once he was gone.

  “Yes,” Jerry answered. “We’re almost there.”

  Angel led the column down into a shallow valley. The vegetation pressed in thickly on all sides, and the men had to force their way through, following the trampled path that Angel and Madduk set for them.

  They finally emerged on the far side. The ground began to climb again, and abruptly, they burst through the brush and into a small clearing. A muddy slope climbed away between the tangled roots of several huge mahogany trees. Angel and Madduk had stopped just at its edge and stood there, their guns raised and pointed towards the trees, tensely waiting.

  The Chinese Special Forces spread out around them to either side, bringing up their rifles and preparing to fire.

  Xiou barked at them in rapid Chinese, warning them again to hold their fire. He cautiously approached the guides; Vogan and Jerry followed behind him.

  “What is it?” Xiou asked anxiously.

  “The Kindu,” Angel answered calmly. “They are just beyond those trees. They come.”

  Without warning, rotting cadavers burst from the tree line and stumbled down the muddy slope. Several tripped and fell in their haste to reach their prey. All of them began to moan as they spotted the line of soldiers; they howled out their hunger for warm living flesh.

  Jerry gagged and winced as the charnel house reek of putrescence and rot washed over the line. The lead cadavers lifted their grasping blackened fingers and staggered forwar
d through the mud to rend and kill.

  Xiou could wait no longer and screamed at his men to fire. The line erupted in flame and cordite smoke as a dozen AK-47s rained lead and destruction on the advancing cadavers.

  Mudduk’s rifle joined theirs, and Angel’s 800 Wildcat roared twice over the thunderous hail of gunfire. The automatic rifles stuttered and stopped as the soldiers reloaded to fire. Each soldier rattled off a full thirty-round magazine on full automatic, reloaded, and fired again. The Wildcat blasted away, over and over, as fast as Angel could slam shells into its breach.

  The rotting cadavers fell to wriggling pieces under the concentrated fire. Nothing could withstand the sheer weight of fire at that close range. Eviscerated corpses were blasted into struggling, shot-up body parts, and as those drew themselves forward, they were targeted again, until only quivering piles of suppurated black meat and shattered bones remained. The bullet-riddled slope was transformed into an un-survivable kill zone, and as the gunfire ceased and the smoke cleared away, only unidentifiable fragments remained jiggling upon it in a splattered pool of blackened gore.

  Xiou pushed his way forward through the line and approached the blasted remains. Scattered throughout the ruined vestiges of humanity were shot-up work boots and belts. A broken silver wrist watch lay shining in the gore-spattered mud. Close by, a bullet-riddled uniform shirt lay wrapped around a still-twitching pile of perforated black meat. A blood-stained flag was barely discernable on its sleeve.

  Xiou turned to address Jerry. “These men were Americans.”

  Everyone came forward to examine the remains. Jerry winced at the carnage and the ghastly stench, but he had to see the proof for himself. He turned away and stared into the trees.

  “We are very close?” Xiou prompted.

  “Close,” Jerry agreed.

  “These men had to come from Blue Mountain. It must be just ahead!” Xiou insisted.

  “I would guess it’s another two miles or so,” Jerry replied.

  “How can it be that far?” Xiou asked. “When the personnel are here?”

  “I don’t know!” Jerry shot back angrily. “I don’t know what these things are doing. Ask Vogan!”

  Xiou walked closer to Vogan, who had bent down to poke at the remains with a stick.

  Vogan didn’t look up. “I don’t know, Xiou, I just don’t know.”

  Xiou barked at his men, who were reloading spent magazines, ordering them to prepare to move out.

  He turned to look at Jerry. “Just get us to the fucking mountain.”

  Angel led them around the battle site and into the trees beyond. The terrain was extremely rough, and began to climb sharply. Their progress was slowed even more.

  They pushed on relentlessly through the trees, climbing and descending to climb again.

  Jerry was at his absolute limit of endurance. Vogan was literally pulling him up the mountain. The sun was moving beyond the treetops, and down towards the horizon when they stumbled through the last trees and out into a clearing. Jerry collapsed to his hands and knees and croaked out, “This is Blue Mountain.”

  TO　THE　JOINT　CHIEFS　OF　STAFF　-　CODE　RED　COMMUNIQUE

  CONTACT　LOST　WITH　FIELD　AGENT　FOSTER,　JERRY　N.　ASSIGNED　TO　CASE　5-8G　(SEE　PREVIOUS　REPORTS,　ATTACHED)　HAET-MOMBOU　REGION,　DRC,　CENTRAL　AFRICA

  F/A　FOSTER　ACTIVATED　EMERGENCY　LOCATOR　BEACON　ON　SPC/ARRAY　AND　THEN　DEACTIVATED　BEACON　SEVERAL　TIMES　DURING　LAST　24　HOUR　PERIOD.　THIS　MAY　BE　DUE　TO　ARRAY　MALFUNCTION,　BUT　NOT　CONSIDERED　LIKELY.　F/A　FOSTER　WAS　INVESTIGATING　PRESENCE　OF　CHINESE　NATIONALS　IN　THAT　REGION.　GPS　TRACKING　OF　F/A　FOSTER’S　ARRAY　SHOWS　HIM　MOVING　DIRECTLY　TOWARDS　AREA　B-0304　DRC-C/N　BLUE　MOUNTAIN.

  THIS　OFFICE　CONSIDERS　IT　A　POSSIBILITY　THAT　F/A　FOSTER　IS　FOLLOWING　CHINESE　TO　THAT　LOCATION,　AND　IS　UNABLE　TO　COMMUNICATE　AT　THIS　TIME.

  PERSONNEL　AT　AREA　B-0304　STILL　NOT　RESPONDING　TO　ANY　ATTEMPTED　CONTACT.

  SATELITTE　SURVEILLANCE　INDICATES　UNUSUAL　ACTIVITY　BY　PERSONNEL,　AND　MINOR　DAMAGE　TO　SITE.　PERSONNEL　SHOULD　HAVE　ATTEMPTED　SOME　TYPE　OF　EMERGENCY　CONTACT　IF　COMMUNICATIONS　EQUIPMENT　INOPERABLE　THAT　LOCATION.

  RECOMMEND　IMMEDIATE　ACTION

  REPORT　ENDS

  Chapter 13

  08:36 p.m. Zulu

  Blue Mountain

  Haet-Mombou Region

  The mining camp appeared to be entirely deserted. Xiou immediately sent his men out to form a perimeter and secure the site.

  Blue Mountain was nothing more than an open pit mine covered by large camouflage tarps. A mound-shaped tailing pile was directly behind the pit and a small bulldozer sat nearby. Five tents stood off to one side among the trees; one had partially collapsed. The entire camp was strewn with abandoned equipment, tools, and personal belongings of all types. It looked as if a small department store had exploded.

  Vogan and Angel wandered about the site, picking up and discarding various items. Jerry eventually recovered and limped after them, looking slowly around. Madduk helped himself to anything valuable he found.

  “Any theories?” Jerry asked.

  Vogan frowned and answered. “It looks like the camp was attacked.” He stooped down to pick up an M-4 and pulled back the bolt. He ejected the magazine and checked it. “Empty.” He gently laid the rifle back where he had found it.

  “I would agree,” offered Angel. “The Kindu came here and destroyed your miners. They are all surely dead. This happened some days ago.”

  “I had expected this,” Jerry explained.

  “What now?” Vogan asked.

  “Now we see what Xiou has in mind,” Jerry said grimly. “Follow my lead.”

  The three men walked over to what had been the communications and command tent. Xiou’s men were busy pulling the hard drives out of the computers there. Xiou looked up as they entered.

  “Not wasting any time I see,” Jerry quipped. “Shouldn’t we retrieve the explosives?”

  “Yes,” Xiou answered. “Where are they?”

  “Should be over at the edge of the site, away from these tents,” Jerry replied. “Come on.”

  He led Xiou to the far side of the clearing. A rough dugout had been constructed, roofed with cut logs, and then reburied under four feet of earth. Stacked inside were wooden boxes, each labeled with the explosives symbol, and clearly labeled dynamite. Nearby were plastic ammo crates, canisters of blasting caps, and spools of detonator cord.

  Xiou immediately set one of his men to guard the dugout. The soldier stood before the dugout with his rifle at the ready.

  “Is your communications tech going to rig up the sat-phone or have we had a change of plans?” Jerry asked.

  “That would draw the cadavers to this site,” Xiou explained. “And I now consider that to be a bad thing. I think we will remove as much of the cobalt ore as we possibly can in the next few days. You will report that the Chinese you were following reached the area only to be killed by the virus, and that although the personnel here are dead, the site is secure. You will suggest a quarantine and then be cut off. That should buy us some time,” Xiou concluded.

  “How will you remove the ore?” Jerry asked.

  “By helicopter, just as your government did,” Xiou answered.

  “You said you had no air assets,” Vogan insisted.

  “I lied,” Xiou replied. “I am truly sorry, but I must put my nation’s security above all other considerations. We must have this ore to level the playing field. Nothing personal.”

  “I understand,” Jerry offered. “But if I was you, I would still rig the site to blow, and set up a defensive position.”

  “Why ever would I do such a thing?” Xiou asked.

  “Because my array has been broadcasting a high-frequency distress signal all day. Every cadaver for one hundred miles is on its way here
, right now,” Jerry explained, patting his shoulder bag.

  Xiou snapped out an order in Chinese. The guard at the dugout stepped forward and leveled his rifle on Jerry.

  Xiou grabbed the bag with a snarl and opened it. He pulled out a stack of comic books, a look of shock on his face. He hurled them to the ground.

  “Where is your array? I won’t ask you twice!” Xiou warned.

  Jerry answered calmly. “I hid it somewhere in the camp. It’s still broadcasting.”

  Xiou snatched the AK-47 from the guard and pushed the muzzle against Jerry’s temple. “Tell me where it is or I will kill you!” he shouted.

  Angel tensed, a snarl on his face. He reached for his rifle.

  “Angel, Vogan, don’t try anything!” Jerry implored, and then he calmly spoke to Xiou again. “You were planning on killing me, anyway. I kept my bargain with you. I brought you to Blue Mountain! Just that is a huge coup for you. Help us destroy the cadavers, and I give you my word we will walk away. Or, shoot me afterwards, whatever. If we live, the damn mine is yours, I don’t care anymore. But I will not turn the array off. No way!”

  Xiou growled and spun towards the others. He thrust the gun against Vogan’s head.

  “Tell me or I will kill your friend!” Xiou shrieked.

  Jerry laughed, “Go ahead, I hate that bastard!”

  “Jerry! What the hell?” Vogan asked.

  “I’m not doing it, Xiou. You need all of us to fight the cadavers!” Jerry pointed out. “Vogan is a good shot, and if you kill Angel, you’re a total idiot. You need them! If you’re going to shoot someone, just shoot me. I don’t even know how to load a gun, but I can still help you!” he quickly added. “Think, man. There isn’t much time!”