Black Flagged Redux

Chapter 37





10:45 PM

Outskirts of Monchegorsk

Kola Peninsula, Russian Federation





Petrovich sprinted for the rear corner of the building closest to the cluster of trees that had served as their final approach point to the outskirts of town. He reached the rusted metal edge of the prefabricated structure and stopped to scan the area beyond with his night vision. He listened to the area around the buildings, and after spending a few minutes of studying the green images produced by his handheld scope, he signaled for the rest of the team to join him. Sporadic distant gunfire drifted through the maze of structures, masking the direction of its origin.

From what he could tell, none of the action was focused on this part of town, which should simplify their approach to the apartment buildings on the southwest edge. Their main risk involved crossing Highway M18, which carried a steady stream of military traffic and patrols. There would be ample opportunity to cross unobserved, but it still made Daniel nervous. Unfortunately, every approach from the west crossed M18, but this route provided the cover of several lifeless buildings that were unlikely to attract any attention. Most of the windows were missing, and they saw no signs of recent human activity from their hide site in the forest. As the rest of the group stacked up along the concrete wall, Daniel checked the area again.

"We'll move up together through the buildings and approach the highway. We can watch a considerable stretch of road from ground level on either side. Once across, we'll hightail it to the abandoned gas station on the other side. Our goal is to find a way into one of the apartment buildings less than a mile from the station," he said and took off without warning.

The team worked its way through another five hundred meters of neglected gray buildings, dodging large heaps of scrap metal and discarded industrial materials. They moved as quietly as possible through pitch-black expanses, stopping momentarily to scan for sentries or anything out of place that might signify an early end to their trip.

By consensus, they had agreed to focus their attention on a block of several closely clustered five-story apartment buildings in the western suburbs of Monchegorsk. By day, the apartments looked like they might have been thoroughly evacuated, but as night descended, they picked up hints of light with their night vision through the thin curtains of several windows. They'd close in on the nearest building and find a place to observe the area for a while.

If they could see lights inside the apartments with second generation civilian night vision scopes, the Russians could see them, too. Russian units would be equipped with fourth generation night vision optics, thermal imaging equipment and infrared detection gear. Based on what they witnessed all afternoon, the Russians were scouring the city with no rules of engagement.

Upon reaching the last building before the highway, Daniel signaled for them all to hold at the corner. He lowered his body and crawled through the dirty snow along a row of dead bushes to the front of the building. He raised his head far enough to see down the road to the south and did the same for the north. Nothing. No illumination or signs of movement. He pulled out his night vision scope and took a look in each direction.

The green image didn't reveal any hidden surprises, but it emphasized the limitations of their night vision gear. The persistent, thin haze blanketing Monchegorsk during the day remained at night to reduce the effective visual range through his scope. For longer distance spotting, they would be better off using the naked eye. The Russians wouldn't have this problem with the newer generation low-light technology. Daniel's team would have to be extremely cautious when making decisions based on long-range detection capabilities.

"One person at a time will crawl up. Stay low. If a vehicle approaches from the south, this wall will be exposed, but you should have enough cover. When you get to the corner, watch the road for a minute to be sure it’s clear, then sprint across. Rally point is behind the gas station."

He heard the rest of the team whisper their acknowledgment and glanced down the road in each direction. All clear, he hoped. Daniel was on his feet in a flash, sprinting in the direction of the gas station. He crossed the road diagonally and skirted the edge of the station's parking lot, headed straight for a large trash dumpster behind the small building. He reached the back wall and slammed his left foot into the door, which gave slightly. He stepped back and kicked it again, splintering the door frame and sending the door inward. He unslung his rifle and moved quickly to the outside corner of the gas station.

"All clear at the station. The back door is open. Rally point inside," he said.

A figure appeared across the street, barreling in his direction. A few minutes later, they huddled inside the frigid gas station. Sergei was the last to arrive.

"I didn't see anything on the road. I think we're good," he said.

"All right. Let's move out. Schafer, you'll bring up the rear. Stay back far enough to watch over us and provide cover if anything pops up," Daniel said.

Schafer gave him a thumbs up that he could barely see in the dark.

"We all need to be on the lookout for snipers. If you hear a snap or see a flash…sprint for three hundred and sixty degree cover. Whatever you do, don't stay in place. I hunted groups like this for two years, and the only thing that ever saved my targets was an immediate panicked sprint for cover."

"I thought you didn't miss," Farrington said.

"I don't. I was talking about the only response that kept me from killing everyone in the group."

"We need to get moving," Farrington said.

"I'll take point. Farrington, Sergei and Leo bring up the middle. Schafer, you know what to do."

"You're never going to call me Yuri, are you?" Farrington said.

"Probably not. Move out," Daniel said and disappeared running.

Fifty minutes later, Daniel walked slowly through a small children's playground. An apartment building loomed overhead, yielding no signs of life. He scanned the windows, aiming the rifle where he looked. It looked dead, but they knew better. He slowly approached a door on the ground level and squinted intensely at the dark gray and blue image provided by the naked eye. He could barely see twenty feet in front of him.

"Do you see anything on the ground level?"

"Negative. I still have a few windows on the third and fourth floor with activity," Schafer said from his over watch position in the distance.

"Roger."

He reached the door and leaned against the concrete wall to its right, extending his right hand to test the door handle. It didn't budge, but he could tell that the door opened inward, which was a good thing if they had to use brute force. Daniel removed both of his thin gray Nomex gloves and stuffed them into cargo pockets. He retrieved a small zippered kit from his backpack and started using the contents to open the door's lock. He tried several combinations of small tools until he felt the tumbler move. He squeezed the thumb mechanism on the top of the handle and pushed inward on the door, which moved effortlessly on its hinges. Perfect.

"We're in. Move the team up."

Daniel moved into the apartment, and noted that the temperature inside didn't improve much from the outside. The rancid smell of decomposition hit him suddenly, which sent a few waves of panic through him. He was in the dark with dead bodies. He put his gloves back on and took out a small flashlight. He turned it on and pointed it down the hallway. He saw dead bodies stacked floor to ceiling against the front doors of the building. Something yanked the flashlight out of his hand.

"Are you f*cking crazy?" Farrington said. He turned the light off and handed it back to Petrovich. "Use your night vision."

The rest of the team assembled inside, except for Schafer, who would watch the building from the outside and provide early warning if the Russians approached. Using his night vision scope instead of a flashlight, Daniel could now see that this was the custodial level and contained no apartments. Large pipes attached to the ceiling ran the length of the hallway. The doors they could see would likely lead to large boilers or furnace equipment.

"We'll head up those stairs to the third floor and hit two rooms at once. Third door and eighth door on the right. I'll stack up with Leo on the far door. Yuri and Sergei take the closer one."

"If we have the doors right. Could be two or three windows per apartment," Leo said.

"We'll figure it out. We need to find what we're looking for in this building. The gunfire is increasing out there," Daniel said.

"I heard helicopters," Farrington said.

That was all anyone needed to say. The team jogged toward the staircase on the northern side of the building and opened the door. The staircase contained no windows, so Daniel flashed his light up the stairwell. Empty. They quietly climbed to the second floor and approached a door. Daniel peered through the window and saw nothing but darkness. He opened the door several inches and took another look with his night vision scope. He saw trash and assorted debris, but no bodies. They hadn't detected any signs of life on the second floor from the outside, and it looked to be no different on the inside.

"Clear," he whispered.

The team continued to the third floor, hugging the walls and keeping their weapons focused on the door leading into the third floor's main hallway. They had counted at least six sources of light on this level, so they approached the door cautiously. Daniel moved his hand to the door handle and pulled it gently, but it didn't move.

"Locked," he whispered.

Farrington moved to the other side of the door, followed closely by Sergei, who glanced up into the darkness of the stairwell toward the fourth floor. Farrington edged his head closer to the door's window and peeked into the hallway, pulling it back immediately. He shook his head and removed his night vision scope, placing it against the glass. He used his right hand to signal for Daniel to work on the door's lock. Daniel removed the same kit he used earlier from one of the pouches on his vest and started to use the two tools that had opened the ground level door. He knew exactly what he needed to do to manipulate the lock's tumblers.

As soon as he felt the tumblers move, the door slammed inward, knocking both Farrington and Petrovich to the concrete floor of the stairwell. Blinding lights and screams filled the stairwell from every direction, and Daniel felt himself ripped off the floor, onto his knees. Someone kneeled on the back of his legs, holding them down, and his arms were quickly pinned behind him. The only thing he didn't hear was gunfire, which for the moment was a good thing.

He was too stunned to react and tried to look around before a dark bag was placed over his head. He felt hard metal press against the side of his skull and figured there was no point in trying to flip the guy restraining his arms. He hoped the rest of his team came to the same conclusion. If they had been captured by civilians, they had a good shot at surviving. When the yelling and struggling calmed, a thick, authoritarian Russian voice emerged.

"You'd all be dead by now if this one hadn't spoken English downstairs," the voice said.

"Even as you approached the building, a few of my people didn't think you were Russian. Who are you?"

"American Special Forces," Daniel said, in Russian.

"Now you speak Russian?" he said and ripped the hood off Daniel's head.

Someone aimed a flashlight directly in Daniel's eyes, partially blinding him, but he had seen enough to know that the rest of his team was on their knees with bags over their heads. Roughly a dozen loosely uniformed men crowded the stairwell landing. Most of them were occupied with restraining his team. A large man stood in front of him, wearing Russian Army camouflage and a large brown fur hat with side flaps. He held an AKS-74u fitted with a bipod and holographic sight. A large night vision rifle scope was tethered by a D-ring to a loop on his camouflage jacket.

"That scope should be attached to a rifle," Daniel said.

"Wouldn't do this crew any good on a rifle. You don't look like Special Forces. This rifle is older than you are and most of your outer gear is old Russian Army issue. What is your mission here?" the leader said.

"To assess and report. We suspect whatever happened here is linked to a rogue Russian bioweapons engineer," Daniel said.

The man exchanged glances with a few of his men and walked over to confer with a man standing halfway up the stairs. He asked a question from the stairs.

"Do they think this is contagious?"

"No. We think this is a form of weaponized encephalitis. Most likely delivered directly through the city's water supply."

"Encephalitis? Whatever it is, it's making people sick in the head. Half the city went crazy. What are you supposed to do with the information?"

"Transmit immediately via satellite and leave."

"You have a satellite phone?"

"Phone with high bandwidth rig," Daniel said.

He heard Farrington start to yell, but the operative was quickly muffled.

"We'll need to take that phone. The world needs to know what happened here. What our government is doing."

"How about we come to an agreement?"

"An agreement? We're in the position to be making demands, not the other way around," the man said.

"More or less true, but the phone isn't on either of us, and it'll disappear if we don't reach an agreement."

An excited voice yelled down the stairs. "Helicopters!"

"Where is the phone? With the other guy outside?"

"He’s listening to this entire exchange, so I recommend we cut the shit. We're on the same side," Daniel said.

The man spoke into a small radio he had kept concealed in his camouflage jacket and listened for the faint reply.

"F*ck! Your man bolted. What do you want?” he said and issued orders down the stairs.

"I need to know exactly what happened here and I need tissue samples. Preferably a live sample," Daniel said.

"You want to take someone back with you?" the man said.

"Someone that can move on their own. One of your soldiers," Daniel said.

"These aren't all soldiers, but we have plenty of candidates for you to take back," he said. He cocked his head and listened to the radio. "F*cking helicopters are inbound. You need to get your guy into this building immediately. He won't last very long out there. Thermal imaging. 30mm guns will chew him up and spit him out," he said.

"Do we have a deal?" Daniel demanded.

"What do I get in return?"

"I'll give you the satellite rig."

"Can it scan documents?" the man said.

"It comes with a digital camera for that purpose. I can hear the helicopters now. We need to wrap this up and get my guy inside. He has the satellite phone," Daniel said.

"I'll need you to help me get documents," the man said.

"What kind of documents?"

"The kind you can only find in a command vehicle," he replied.

"You have plenty of soldiers for that," Daniel said.

"The soldiers I have are military police reservists. Most of the men and women fighting in the city are civilians. I need Special Forces types to take down a command BTR."

"Release my men immediately and return their weapons. Then we have a deal," Daniel said.

The man ordered their release and Daniel struggled to his feet.

Farrington immediately got in Daniel's face. "We don't have time for diversions or passengers. We need to take tissue samples, interrogate the locals and get the f*ck out of here," he said.

"Hold on. Schafer, can you get back to the building without exposing yourself to the birds?"

"I'm on my way back. The sounds are still muffled. I should be fine. ETA, one minute."

He returned his attention to Farrington. "Yuri, it's too late for that. A deal's a deal. It's not like we had a lot of negotiating power. How long do you think it would have taken them to find the phone?" he asked, patting Farrington's chest.

"You were bluffing me?" the former soldier said.

"Not really. Schafer has the high bandwidth rig. Where do we go from here?"

"Out of this building. We moved our headquarters here earlier in the day, but it appears that we have attracted enough attention to bring them into the area."

"When are we getting our weapons back? They took them upstairs," Farrington demanded.

"You're not getting those rifles back," the man said.

"What the f*ck? It was part of the deal and—"

"Those rifles are shit. We have better weapons for you…unless you want your forty-year-old Kalashnikov back. You should keep the PPS though. We can make use of that," he said.

Several armed civilians descended the stairs and stacked several weapons and new equipment along an empty wall on the landing. They continued down the stairs amidst the yelling and chaos of a general evacuation. Daniel spotted Schafer on the stairs, pushing his way through a mass of armed men flowing to the lower levels of the building. The man directed them toward the weapons and harness gear.

"Take your pick. Just make sure to swap out your rifle magazines. None of these will fire 7.62mm. Hurry up. I want to clear out of this building in a few minutes. The helicopters won't fire on the buildings before the ground troops arrive, unless they're fired upon first."

"We saw them take a building down about a mile from here. Earlier in the day," Farrington said.

"That was my fault. I had sent a squad to that neighborhood with the hopes of drawing their attention away from our headquarters move. The squad took it upon themselves to shoot up a foot patrol and got stuck in the building. We saw the building collapse from the rockets. Our squad never returned," the man said.

"They were all killed," Farrington said, grabbing a fully rigged AKS-74u.

"Along with everyone in the building. The government has switched from evacuation to extermination mode. Not that there was ever really a difference," the man said.

"What do you mean? Do you have any suppressors for these weapons, or long-range night scopes?" Daniel said, lifting a thick-barreled AK-74 from the stockpile.

A young man standing near the stairs answered. "No suppressors. We didn't have anything like that in our armory. We were lucky to have advanced sights for the weapons. I can get you a scope. I'm Sergeant Malyshev. One of the few regulars assigned to the battalion."

He walked over and extended his hand to Farrington, who shook it, followed by Daniel. After shaking the man's hand, Daniel became concerned. In the scattered light of several flashlights, he could see that the man's face was drained of color and his eyes were bloodshot. He coughed softly into the crook of his elbow.

"Sergeant Malyshev has been a blessing to the battalion. One of the few regulars with combat experience to ever be assigned to our unit…and the only regular to stay behind. He saw extensive combat in Chechnya. I'm assigning him to your group."

"We don't need any additional manpower," Daniel said.

"Trust me, you'll be glad to have this soldier backing you up. He knows the streets…and he can fight like the devil. You're taking him with you when you leave. He's your live sample."

It all made sense to Daniel now.

"How far along are you?" Daniel said, flashing his light in Malyshev's face.

"I'm still a day or so away from having real problems. Right now I just have flu symptoms. That's how it starts," he said.

"How did he get infected?" Sergei said.

"Many of the men refilled their canteens when we took to the city. Nobody at the base was initially infected. We're not on city water. Some got sick, some didn't. Maybe some houses had already flushed out all of the bad water and others hadn't. Bad luck? Who the f*ck knows? I'm Maxim, by the way. Captain Maxim Sabitov. I commanded the 332nd Reserve Military Police Battalion…still do I guess.

"On Saturday, April 7th, most of the battalion remained overnight for our monthly drill. It’s mostly administrative work this time of the year, so we let a number of the men return to their families off base on Saturday night. They all got sick over the course of the next week. The men who stayed on base that night were fine."

"How many men did you have under your command?" Farrington said.

"Three hundred and fifty-six. Forty-three went home that night. Forty of them got sick. About thirty complied with Russian Army Command's order to abandon the base, leaving me with roughly two hundred and eighty men."

"Abandon the base?" Daniel said.

"Of course. The situation in Monchegorsk had deteriorated significantly by then, and Moscow had three hundred armed soldiers assigned to the base. Most with families living in Monchegorsk. They didn't want us sticking around town to cause trouble, so they ordered us north. Only the unmarried soldiers obeyed. We made sure to secure the armory from the very outset. Most of us knew what was at stake here."

His radio chirped again and he put his hand on Daniel's shoulder. The deep, rhythmic thud of helicopter rotors intensified and passed, replaced by the steep whine of the twin turboshaft engines. The entire building vibrated as the helicopter passed overhead.

"We need to get moving. I don't want to be responsible for bringing another building down on their heads," Maxim said, pulling Daniel toward the stairs.

"How many civilians are still around?" Farrington said.

"Hard to say. A few thousand maybe. Scattered everywhere. The Russians have started block by block sweeps to the northeast."

"That's a lot of people. Why doesn't the government just evacuate them?"

"Because nobody believes the government is actually evacuating them. From the very beginning, rumors have circulated that they just truck everyone over to the nickel pits and shoot them. Based on what I've seen in the city, I wouldn't be surprised. The other problem is that half of the people I've seen are violently insane and unpredictable. They can't effectively restrain the sick ones. You'll see what I mean. It's f*cking crazy out there. Especially at night."



**



Lieutenant Colonel Grigory Zadornov stood in a circle with his battalion's leadership. He had three infantry company commanders and an assortment of infantry and armor platoon commanders. The sound of throttling diesel engines competed with the chatter going back and forth among the men.

"Cut the chatter," he barked, and they immediately quieted.

"I've just received orders to move the battalion four miles through the city to an area here. Helicopter and Spetznaz surveillance reports indicate a heavy concentration of armed civilians among the buildings," he said, pointing at a map held up to his chest.

"Too many weapons in one place to be another disorganized gaggle. We know the insurgents moved their headquarters earlier today, so we're going to hit this area in force, with helicopter support. Nighttime rules of engagement are in place. Shoot anything that moves. Conserve ammunition during the transit and make sure to deploy your troops as soon as you make contact. We lost two vehicles last night to some kind of bullshit improvised explosives that were placed on the vehicles by hand. Nobody should be getting close enough to touch one of our vehicles. Infantry commanders and vehicle commanders need to work together. I better not lose another vehicle to a Semtex sticky bomb. We move out in five minutes. All orders and rally points have been transmitted to your mobile battlefield feeds. Mark your maps and standby to depart."

He turned and stepped through an open side hatch into his vehicle, a command variant of the BTR-80 armored personnel carrier, easily identifiable by two large whip antennas protruding from the top rear corners of the troop compartment. The air inside was considerably warmer than the wind-whipped arctic air flowing down the street through his column. One of the infantry captains had remained behind to chat.

"What if we have more civilians trying to surrender? The orders last night weren't clear with the men," he said.

"No prisoners. Anyone on the streets is to be shot. It sounds harsh, but the water supply to the city has been poisoned. At this point, my commander has determined that anyone remaining in the city is likely to be infected and will eventually transform into one of the abominations we've been dealing with all over the city. Our government is fighting desperately to keep this outbreak from spreading to other cities. Unfortunately, we're on the shit end of that fight. Get your company ready for heavy contact. I expect this to be a long night," Colonel Zadornov said.

Once the captain left the vehicle's rear opening, he turned back to his command center to review the maps and any new orders that might have come through on his mobile battlefield terminal. The command center barely qualified as anything more than four square feet of table space on the right side of the BTR. With the mobile battlefield terminal (MBT) affixed to the hull above and to the left of the table, alongside a row of radio receivers, the setup gave him enough room to use half of a map. He could simultaneously scour the MBT for updates from his various subordinates, and if he didn't like what he was seeing or hearing, he had three radios at his disposal to remedy the situation.

A harness seat had been bolted to the deck at one end of the table, allowing him to stay at the command center, while the BTR scrambled from one location to the next. Cold weather clothing, issued harness gear, weapons and ammunition were crammed into every other conceivable space in the back and would spill everywhere once they started moving.

His operations officer would stuff himself somewhere among the four soldiers riding in back, who had been assigned to defend the vehicle. He would fight for space around the command center to advise Zadornov. Even under the best circumstances, it was organized chaos, and whenever possible, Zadornov would ride in the turret. Especially when they came under fire. The rear compartment shrank with the sounds of small arms fire knocking against the hull, and he hated the thought of helplessly waiting for a rocket propelled grenade to tear through the thin armor.

He lifted one of the radio handhelds from its receiver and transmitted an order to the battalion.

"This is Zovra Command. Three minute warning for the scout elements. Stick to your assigned routes. No variations. Over," he said and listened for all of the individual units' acknowledgments.

He wondered what the young captain had really thought about the battalion's orders. It didn't take a university degree in science to realize that command's supposed fear of an outbreak was utter nonsense. If they were dealing with a contagious epidemic, the troops would have been issued biological suits…at least masks. They had arrived with all of that gear, but his commander had been told not to issue it. Rumors about the water supply had spread through the battalion like wildfire, reinforced by strict, repeated orders not to drink from indigenous water sources.

For Zadornov, it didn't really matter. Something had infected the population and turned them into stark raving lunatics. He'd seen every form of depraved behavior, from gang raping in the middle of the streets, to children jumping from the rooftops. Everyone in the city was psychotic on some level. It was impossible to predict when a seemingly normal person might pick up a rock and try to bash your head in.

He didn't like the order to shoot on sight, but after spending five nights patrolling the city, he didn't see any other choice. He just hoped that when this was over, the government didn't decide to drag his entire battalion over to the nickel pits. He didn't want to know what the Internal Ministry Troops were doing in the industrial sector of town to the northwest.

His seat rumbled as the driver revved the engine in anticipation of the assault. All around him, vehicles sprang to life and started to move forward. His operations officer, a young infantry captain, hopped through the side hatch and issued an order to the rest of their crew. Within a minute, the troop compartment of the BTR was crowded with soldiers and all hatches were sealed. The BTR lurched forward, knocking everyone around the metal compartment and spilling gear everywhere. Zadornov reminded himself to find another driver for tomorrow.



**



Daniel Petrovich stepped out into the darkness and scanned the neighborhood. The crescent moon provided enough ambient light to outline the large hulks of more than a dozen apartment buildings, all tightly stuffed into an area Sabitov had called Katayev Prospekt.

They had met for a few minutes in the basement to discuss Sabitov's plan, which involved moving the bulk of his fighters to this development. From there, his fighters would put up a brief fight and disperse. Their goal was to occupy all of the Russian Army's attention, while Daniel's group tried to pull off the impossible.

"You ready for this? Walk in the park for Special Forces, right?" Sabitov said and slapped him on the back.

The rest of the team joined him and listened silently. They could hear rumbling in the distance and the distinct thud of helicopter rotors.

"Armor is moving in this direction, but the helicopters will track my people. Everything will be shifted to the Katayev Prospekt. I expect the entire Russian force to be concentrated on that area. Fifteen apartment buildings. Much larger than the one we left," he said.

"The helicopters don't shoot people on the streets?" Sergei asked.

"Not yet, but I suggest we move as discreetly as possible," Sabitov said.

"Lead the way," Petrovich said.

The group of nine men set off in a northeasterly direction, led by Major Sabitov and Sergeant Malyshev, who both carried loaded RPG launchers. Three additional soldiers had been added to the group to help Sabitov create a diversion. The soldiers were dressed in civilian clothes and carried additional rockets. Like Sabitov's sergeant, they didn't sound very healthy. As long as they could do their jobs, Daniel wasn't concerned.

Daniel's team, which included Malyshev, would assault the vehicles. Daniel had made it clear that if the command BTR didn't take the bait, they would depart Monchegorsk immediately. Sabitov was convinced that the information found in the battalion commander's vehicle would be worth the risk. Daniel traded looks with Farrington as they sprinted off into the darkness. They were both thinking the same thing, but Daniel had no intention of double-crossing Sabitov. The man had stayed behind against overwhelming odds to protect his family, which was something Daniel could relate to.

They weaved their way through a maze of smaller buildings and snow-covered yards, occasionally ducking behind walls or kicking in doors to hide from the Mi-28 Havoc that screamed overhead. The helicopter was loud enough to hear from a distance, and they had no shortage of places to hide. Soon enough, they'd come up on an open area leading to a small cluster of apartment buildings and would have to carefully time their transit. Gunfire picked up to their front, punctuated by the loud crack of RPGs exploding. Sabitov listened to his radio.

"They've just ambushed the recon elements of the armor battalion. We wait here and see if they take the bait," Sabitov said.

"How far ahead are they?" Daniel said.

"Less than a mile. My teams will pull back to Katayev Prospekt and draw them into the area around the tall buildings. We'll have to time this carefully. We need to—"

A sudden growl stopped his sentence, followed by a horrifying scream and mumbled voices.

"What the f*ck is that?" Leo said.

The Russians exchanged worried glances just as three screaming figures charged between the two structures behind them. They closed the short distance quicker than he'd expected, and he couldn't identify them in the darkness. Several gunshots exploded, and the attack stopped as quickly as it started. They heard demented laughter off in the distance.

"They must have followed us," Malyshev said.

"Who followed us?" Petrovich demanded.

"The sick ones. This is what happens," he said, kicking over one of the bodies.

Petrovich stared at a young woman's dead body, focused on the blood encrusted butcher knife near her hand. She was dressed in an unbuttoned gray overcoat, which covered blood-splattered, light green hospital scrubs. "Dr. Cherkasov" was embroidered over the left breast pocket.

"Don't ever be fooled. They're all armed with crazy shit like this. Mr. Petrovich, would you take one of your men back to those buildings with the PPS and scan the street for any additional followers? I can hear them," Sabitov said.

Daniel tugged at Leo's jacket, just as Farrington tossed the silenced PPS at them. Leo snatched it out of the air, and they both walked briskly between the buildings with their weapons held ready. He reached the end of the building and risked a peek around the corner. Through the darkness, he could see someone repeatedly stabbing another person about twenty feet down the street. Movement in his peripheral vision alerted him to the presence of two figures emerging from the shadows of the buildings on the other side of the tight road. The Russians appeared to be the least of their problems at the moment.

"Two more walking down the middle of the road, dragging something behind them. Looks like half of a body. F*ck," Leo whispered.

"Take them down first, then hit the two across the street."

Daniel raised his rifle and turned the corner, immediately finding his target through the Russian made 3X PN23 night vision scope. He quickly centered the red dot on the side of the attacker's head and shot him. He heard several muffled shots from the PPS and shifted his rifle to the two figures across the street. Both targets appeared in the scope, and he chose the man to the right, who stood with his mouth open, twitching. The second man charged them, and Daniel shifted his scope to the runner, preparing to fire.

"A little help with this one," he said and took his eye off the scope to fire an unaided shot.

The PPS coughed an extended burst, and the man tumbled to the street, his riddled body feeding a rapidly expanding dark shadow in the snow. Daniel sighted in on the man across the street, who hadn't moved since they started shooting. He watched a line of bullets stitch across the man's chest, knocking him back into the shadows. Daniel picked up movement on the street from several directions at once.

"We need to get the f*ck out of here," Leo said.

"Agreed. Farrington, inform Major Sabitov that we can't stay here," Daniel said.

His earpiece crackled. "Understood."

Daniel raced back to the group, and Sabitov informed them that the entire armor formation was headed toward Katayev Prospekt down one of the main roads. He predicted that the battalion would split up into three groups, about three hundred meters before reaching the large cluster of buildings. He'd watched them employ this same strategy three nights in a row and the command BTR always joined the group on the left flank. Last night, the BTR broke off on its own and drove one block to pursue a group of looters. The two GAZ-2975 Tiger jeeps assigned to escort the command BTR followed closely. He watched the three vehicles fire point blank into a group of several civilians and could barely believe his eyes when the soldiers in the BTR dismounted to check the bodies. He told them that their success hinged on the Russians' opening the BTR's hatch.

As they all started to run, Daniel grabbed Farrington. "How will they get the Russian commander to open up the hatch? If they come under attack, they'll stay buttoned up in the APC's. I think it might be time to pull the plug on this," Daniel said.

"I don't think the three soldiers will be returning with the rest of us," Farrington said and sprinted to catch up.

Daniel thought about this for a few seconds, until a maddened scream from the street behind him spurred him into action.



**



Lieutenant Colonel Zadornov studied the MBT screen and cross-referenced points on the map spread out on his compact table. The attack helicopters had confirmed that a large insurgent force had arrived in the vicinity of the Katayev Prospekt apartment development, and his reconnaissance vehicles had been viciously attacked near Katayev, forcing their withdrawal after the loss of one Tiger. The insurgents were desperately trying to keep his battalion away from the development, which led him to conclude that this was their headquarters. He could put an end to the armed resistance in Monchegorsk tonight, if he maneuvered aggressively and killed the insurgency's leadership. To keep the insurgents busy while his battalion approached, he ordered the two Mi-28 Havocs to conduct gun runs to engage targets moving into the area. Within seconds, he heard the distinctive, rapid bark of a 30mm cannon above him. The helicopters' gunners had wasted no time finding targets.

He glanced at the map one more time before issuing his final deployment orders, which would split the force into three groups along Troika Street. The battalion would push into Katayev Prospekt from three directions, looking for a weakness in the insurgent deployment. He might even consider using the Havoc's rockets to topple a few of the ten-story apartment buildings. If he crashed the buildings on the left flank, he could roll right into the middle of the battle, without fear of a lucky rocket propelled grenade puncturing the top armor of his BTR.

The tall buildings presented a unique challenge, as evidenced by the loss of a Tiger earlier in the day. One well aimed shot from the six or seventh story of those buildings had the potential to turn any of the battalion's vehicles into a flaming coffin. There were simply too many windows in each building to cover adequately from the ground, so the infantry would have to clear them, room by room, before the bulk of the vehicles could move forward. Or, he could flatten a few of the buildings. He also had the availability of four Su-25 "Frogfoot" ground attack jets based out of the airbase in Murmansk. Two of the Frogfoots, each armed with eight 500-pound bombs, sat on the runway ready to take off. He could have them over Monchegorsk in less than fifteen minutes.

The BTR rattled and tried to throw the men out of their seats, as the driver swerved to follow Alpha Company's vehicles to the far left flank of the Katayev Prospekt. Zadornov moved into the turret and took a look at the scene through the vehicle commander night scope. He saw tracers arc upward into the buildings from the lead vehicles, while return tracers tracked down toward the street, ricocheting in every direction upon hitting the pavement. The lead BTRs and Tigers of his column deployed their troops, which consisted of a reinforced infantry company. Chaos erupted as one hundred and thirty-five soldiers scrambled for cover from the incoming small arms fire and pushed to rally with their squads for the infantry assault into Katayev.

One of the Havoc gunships roared overhead, firing an extended burst of 30mm projectiles into the closest building. Shell casings ejected from the gun rained down on the vehicles, clanging off the hatches and armor, reminding Zadornov of the thin top armor on his BTRs. To him, the shell casings' impacts sounded like rocks thrown against a corrugated tin shack. He took another look through the sight at Alpha Company's deployment. From his vantage point fifty meters back along the street, he could see most of the company's BTRs and Tigers, sixteen vehicles arrayed in a staggered formation along Yumashev Street. They didn't have much cover from the towering apartment buildings, but at this range in the dark, RPGs were not a major threat. In a few minutes, a few of the BTRs would move forward to support the infantry assault. That's when he expected to see the RPGs.

Just as he ducked down from the turret, a sharp ping echoed off the left side of the vehicle, which struck him as odd, since the Katayev apartments didn't face the left side of the vehicle. His driver had stopped the BTR on the far right side of the road, hoping to take advantage of the cover provided by the homes and businesses crowded together near the road. Another ping sounded from the left side, followed by the pounding sound of his escort vehicles' open mounted 12.7mm heavy machine guns.

He popped back up into the turret as it swung to the left. "Is that small arms fire hitting us?" he asked the gunner.

"Three guys standing in the middle of the street. One of them is firing a rifle. Hold on, sir."

The 14.5mm turret gun rapidly recoiled and shook the entire BTR, flinging smoking hot empty shell casings against the inside metal hull of the turret. The casings cascaded down into the body of the BTR. The sounds of the heavy gun's blasts were mercifully diffused by the BTR's airtight seal. He heard several bursts of fire from assault rifles and figured the troops in the escort Tigers had deployed.

"Did you hit them?" he said to the gunner.

"Negative. They scrambled off the street too fast."

"Sir, we could pursue the group. Looked like a couple crazies with a rifle. I saw three guys in civilian clothes," the vehicle commander said, a wide-eyed, ruddy-faced senior sergeant.

Zadornov thought about his request for a moment and moved to one of the left side viewing ports. He swiveled a metal plate upward and stared through the thick glass into the darkness, which was useless. It was pitch black outside. Only his driver and gunner had vehicle-installed night vision optics. A flash caught his eye, followed immediately by another ping against the BTR's armor, which caused him to flinch. The 14.5mm cannon fired another salvo, which was immediately joined by the two Tigers and several infantry soldiers surrounding the vehicles.

"They're f*cking around near one of the buildings on the corner of the next street. We could roll them up pretty easily," the senior sergeant said.

He closed the viewing port's armor shielding and took a seat at his table. He read the most recent updates from his platoon and company commanders. All ground units were moving toward the apartments under heavy small arms and machine gun fire, but the sheer volume of fire from the battalion's vehicle mounted guns and attack helicopters kept the insurgents from concentrating fire on their advance. Two more pings sounded through the BTR, and he heard a scream from somewhere outside. A speaker next to the MBT came to life.

"Sir, we have a casualty from Tiger One. One of their soldiers was hit in the legs. They pulled him back into the vehicle. Do you want to relocate the vehicles away from the shooters?"

Zadornov was annoyed by the vehicle commander's insinuation that he didn't plan to take action. He was in the middle of a major operation and didn't have time to chase three lunatics through the streets. The BTR's 14.5mm gun roared to life, jarring him out of his thoughts.

"F*ck me. Look at this!" the gunner yelled.

Zadornov jumped out of his seat and opened the top hatch of the BTR to take a look for himself. He was greeted by the bright orange light of flames and the smell of burning gasoline. Several guns fired at a slumped figure on the ground near the corner of a small hardware store, shattering the front window and tearing the body apart. A large patch of flames burned in the middle of the street, dancing in the wind and dying quickly. He knew what had happened as soon as he took it all in. One of those nutcases had tried to throw a Molotov cocktail bomb onto his vehicle. A bullet ricocheted off the turret armor, no more than three feet from his head, causing him to duck back inside and slam the top hatch closed. Son of a bitch!

He grabbed the radio handset and ordered the command vehicles into pursuit. He typed a message on the MBT, notifying his subordinate commanders that he was breaking off to pursue a small group of civilians. The vehicle pulled forward and took off down the street with the Tigers alongside. As soon as he pressed "send" on his message, all hell broke loose at Katayev Prospekt and reports started streaming in through all of his radios. If he had stayed in position on Yumashev Street, he would have seen at least a dozen rocket propelled grenades arch down from the buildings reaching for his vehicles.



**



Daniel watched the three armored vehicles move down the darkened side street that intersected with the road in front of him. Farrington had been right. The three soldiers dressed in civilian clothes had no intention of returning from this mission, and he could barely blame them. After seeing the results of Reznikov's virus on the streets, he'd want to end his own life as quickly as possible. The two remaining soldiers huddled between buildings on the other side of the street and waited for the vehicles to round the corner.

The battle at Katayev Prospekt intensified when the command BTR reached the halfway point down the side street, just as Sabitov had promised. With the entire battalion occupied, their ambush might go unnoticed long enough for them to avoid clashing with more Russian units. The vehicles approached the turn onto their street, and Daniel slid his body along the roof of the building to the front right corner, careful to stay out of sight. Somewhere below him, the rest of his group waited. He heard someone yell from the street and poked his head over the short concrete lip that kept him concealed.

The street exploded with heavy machine-gun fire, and green tracers poured from the vehicles into the two men, who were caught in the middle of the street. The onslaught of heavy caliber firing continued as the vehicles approached, sending ricochets in every conceivable direction, shattering building windows and causing Daniel to hug the roof until it stopped. He heard the deep rumble of the BTR-80's powerful diesel engine as it approached a point across the street from his building.

He poked his head over the edge and saw all three vehicles in a line less than twenty meters away, with the BTR centered on the two dead bodies. The BTR's devastating 14.5mm gun was aimed down the street, which relieved Daniel. Even a near miss from one of those shells could put him out of action. Soldiers exited the rear hatches on the Tigers and fanned out to form a hasty perimeter. Daniel kept his head pressed against the lip, tilted sideways to expose as little of him as possible. The gunners on the Tigers swiveled their night vision equipped 12.7mm machine guns in a vigilant attempt to keep watch over the formation.

The BTR-80's side hatch opened and extended into a two-step ramp between the second and third tire on the side exposed to Daniel. Two soldiers scrambled out of the hatch, followed by an officer.

Daniel pushed himself up to his knees and swung the rifle over the lip, bracing it against the concrete. He centered the scope on the officer's face and fired a hasty shot. His next shot spun the rear Tiger's gunner out of the swivel mount and onto the ground behind the vehicle. Before he could engage another target, two RPGs popped through the windows below him and slammed into the Tigers. At this point, Daniel's only job was to keep anyone from closing the BTR hatch.

He stared intensely at the scope's green image as bullets cracked overhead and skipped off the concrete. He ignored the furious firefight between the Russian soldiers and his own Black Flag team. A body filled the hatch, and Daniel squeezed the trigger, causing the figure to tumble out of the BTR onto the snow-covered pavement. An arm and head appeared, stretching to reach the hatch. Daniel centered on the top of the arm, and fired. The soldier immediately dropped to the deck of the BTR and was pulled out of sight before Daniel could fire a bullet into his torso.

He fired two shots through the hatch, to discourage anyone else from trying to close the hatch. He hoped the rounds didn't ricochet and destroy any equipment they might need to examine. Through his left eye, he saw the BTR's turret start to turn in his direction, just as two figures scrambled toward the hatch from the street. He was fairly sure they were part of his team.

"Petrovich displacing," he announced, so the team would know he was no longer covering them.

"Breach team in," he heard, followed by the sounds of muffled gunfire from the street below.

He sprinted for a few seconds and dove into the snow, glancing backward. His previous position behind the concrete rooftop lip disappeared in a series of explosions that showered him with sharp fragments. The pounding lasted a few more seconds and suddenly stopped.

"Breach team is in control of the BTR. Send Malyshev," he heard through his earpiece.

Daniel picked his bruised body up off the debris strewn roof and sprinted back to the edge of the roof. He saw Malyshev sprint toward the open hatch, under heavy small arms fire from a group of soldiers huddled near the rear Tiger. Leo fired into the soldiers from somewhere below him, dropping one of them and scrambling the rest. Daniel picked up movement out of his peripheral vision, just as Malyshev jumped into the BTR and closed the hatch. A soldier climbed onto the damaged lead Tiger and jumped behind the 12.7mm gun.

The gun started to swivel, and Daniel aimed through his scope, barely beating the turret. He squeezed the trigger, punching a 5.45mm steel jacketed projectile through the soldier's Kevlar helmet, just as a grenade flew from the building into the Tiger. The rocket's detonation penetrated the Tiger's armor and exploded it from the inside, catapulting the body in the turret several feet into the air. When the explosion settled, Daniel noticed that all he could hear were sounds of small arms fire on the street and in the distance. He couldn't help but wonder if the last grenade had attracted any attention from the soldiers engaged in battle near the Katayev Prospekt.

"Breach team needs to move fast. Have Malyshev monitor communications. The last RPG blast might have attracted some attention," he said.

"Understood. We're accessing the MBT. Keep the infantry off the vehicle," Farrington said.

Daniel leaned over the edge, searching for more targets. He saw a soldier firing from a position behind the remaining Tiger and snapped off a quick shot at his head. He saw the soldier crumple to the street, his helmet spinning in the snow on the pavement. He spotted another soldier creeping between the Tiger and a partially shattered glass storefront window, trying to approach the BTR. A short burst from Leo's assault rifle knocked him back through the remaining glass. The firefight died on the street after the last burst.

The lead Tiger burned furiously, sending a column of superheated smoke and sparks skyward. There was little chance of the ambush going unnoticed for very long, and he suspected a few of the vehicles' soldiers had disappeared into the neighborhood, headed back to the infantry company deployed less than 1000 meters away. Sabitov had told them that his soldiers would expend most of their remaining rockets to provide a diversion for the ambush. There would be no second volley to distract the battalion. Daniel scanned the air for what they all feared the most. He spotted one of the Havocs hovering less than a mile away firing cannon shells into one of the center buildings, which now burned brightly. Every building in the Katayev Prospekt apartment development had caught fire at this point, illuminating the area around the buildings.

He heard motors rumble in the distance, and a Havoc helicopter suddenly appeared from behind a tall building down the street.

"Leo, get the RPGs to the roof, but stay in the stairwell. Yuri, get Malyshev on the BTR's cannon. We have a Havoc moving up the street, fifty meters above the buildings. It's moving slowly. Scanning."

He dashed back to the stairwell and ran inside, closing the door behind him. The sound of the rotors grew thunderous as the Havoc drew within a few buildings of the wrecked vehicle formation.

Leo and Major Sabitov raced up the stairs with loaded RPG launchers. Daniel reached out to take Sabitov's.

"Ready?" he said.

Leo stared at him with an incredulous look and nodded.

"Is Malyshev on the gun?"

"Affirmative. He's very familiar with the BTR," Farrington said.

"We're going to try and hit it with a double RPG salvo. You pound away with the gun. We have to get the Havoc to withdraw. More vehicles are inbound."

"We just heard on the radio. Let's get this over with," Farrington said.

"Roger. Here we go," he said and cracked the door open.

The only thing he cared about was the direction of the 30mm gun. It was aimed down the street and to the left, so he pushed the door open and stepped out far enough to make room for Leo. He aimed at the Havoc's center through the crude sight and depressed the hand trigger. The rocket's booster detonated, shooting the projectile out of the launcher. Less than a half second later, the rocket's motor fired and propelled the 85mm high explosive grenade toward the Havoc at nearly one thousand feet per second. Daniel heard the second RPG fire and ran back toward the door, pushing Leo and Sabitov down the staircase.

The first rocket missed the Havoc's right weapons pylon by less than a meter and struck the helicopter's rotor blade arc, failing to detonate or cause any disruption to its flight stability. Leo's rocket struck the underside of the helicopter, just behind the landing gear, bucking the helicopter, but causing no structural or mechanical damage that would end its flight.

Daniel and his accomplices tumbled over each other past the second floor when the first of the 30mm projectiles started to tear the roof apart. They dumped the rocket launchers at the bottom of the staircase and pulled Sabitov out of the back door as the ceiling above the ground floor started to disintegrate in successive blasts. They turned right and ran along the back of the stores, in the direction of the helicopter. They heard the BTR's 14.5mm gun start firing and Sabitov yelled to them.

"One more round for the RPG!"

The major held up one of the launchers they had dropped and reached behind him for the last rocket, which rested in a specialized munitions backpack that had been previously carried by one of the infected soldiers. Leo and Sabitov scrambled to load the rocket while Daniel rushed toward the street between the nearest two buildings. As he approached the street, he could hear the BTR's 14.5mm rounds strike the helicopter above. The cracks against the helicopter's metal were answered by the deafening bark of the Havoc's 30mm cannon. He poked his head around the building's corner in time to see several 30mm rounds puncture the BTR, exploding its fuel tanks and flattening all of its oversized tires. The Havoc hovered over their side of the street and fired another burst of projectiles into the BTR and the building behind it.

"Over here!" he screamed back to the men.

Leo rushed down the opening to join him, just as the Havoc moved forward above the buildings. The helicopter's rotor wash scattered the snow between buildings, lifting it into a painful frozen mist that engulfed the small space. The helicopter slowly appeared above them, and Leo aimed skyward. The rocket's blast instantly cleared the tight alleyway, and they saw the rocket explode behind the under mounted 30mm gun, just below the cockpit. Neither of them waited around for the result. They ran back though the alleyway and sprinted down the back of the buildings as the sounds of the Havoc droned off into the distance, replaced by the rumble of diesel engines. Daniel stopped them as they reached an open area.

"You're on your own, Major. Sorry it didn't work out for you. I need to be on my way out of Monchegorsk within thirty minutes. Farrington gave me the phone, so we can still make the calls you wanted. I'll take care of this once we've reached a safe distance," Daniel said.

"That wasn't part of the deal," Sabitov said.

"Neither was losing most of my team."

"The deal is still on! Keep moving! Half the Russian Army just turned the corner!" Farrington said, emerging from the same opening in the alley they had used just seconds earlier.

Farrington, Sergei and Schafer caught up to them, and the entire group sprinted across a soccer field to the next neighborhood, praying that the second helicopter didn't make a sudden appearance. A few streets into the neighborhood, they heard several massive explosions, and Daniel turned to see the second helicopter fire dozens of rockets into the lower floors of the centermost apartment building in Katayev Prospekt. The explosive impacts lit up the night sky and showered burning chunks of debris down from the mortally damaged structure.

A second salvo of rockets raced toward the building and exploded inside, blowing chunks of flaming orange fragments out of the back of the building. Daniel watched as the ten-story building tipped forward and slowly collapsed out of his view. The ground shook beneath his feet, rattling the buildings around him. He turned to leave and ran right into Major Sabitov, who stared at Katayev Prospekt in disbelief and listened to the hiss of static on his radio.

"You've done everything you could possibly do for these people. Keep moving," he said; his hand on Sabitov's shoulder.

The sound of diesel engines died out as they plowed ahead at full speed toward Grozny Prospekt. As they ran, Daniel thought about Malyshev. The sergeant had sacrificed himself so they'd have a chance to escape with the data from the BTR. There was no way he was going to screw Sabitov after that.

They'd return to the original apartment building on the outskirts of Monchegorsk, if it was still safe, and transmit the data wherever Sabitov chose to send it. At the snowmobiles they would take the time to file a report with Berg. He wished they could find another live volunteer to return with them, but he wasn't optimistic about finding another early-stage infected civilian willing to leave.

As they crossed another bleak, windswept street, he caught some movement a few houses away, followed by nonsensical muttering. He slowed to a walk in the middle of the street.

"You need the PPS?" Farrington asked, several steps ahead.

Daniel’s hand gripped the razor-sharp combat knife strapped to his leg. "No. I should be fine."

He pulled the seven-inch serrated blade from its sheath. Maybe he could find something a little more compact to carry back to Finland.