Pandemic

THIRTY-SEVEN.

Muldoon radioed the convoy to halt. His squad piled out of the Humvees to clear the area. Lee was right; there were a lot of Klowns in the neighborhood, all heading to Hanscom. The squad went to guns on them. Muldoon called out the combat engineers.

This was a good place to break the road. On the right, the ground sloped past the guardrail through some trees to the Cambridge Reservoir; on the left, a patch of thick woods. And in between, six lanes of highway dotted with abandoned vehicles and wrecks. The job was to blow some massive craters all the way across. A piece of cake for the engineers.

They placed ten M180 cratering demolition kits at regular intervals on the north and southbound lanes of the road. More on the shoulders and median.

Each kit weighed a hundred pounds. A big rocket was mounted on a tripod and aimed at the ground. A second shaped charge was attached to one of the tripod legs.

A radio signal would trigger the rockets to fire and strike the shaped charges. The explosion of the shaped charge would rip a hole in the road about six feet deep. The rocket would then propel through the back blast into the hole and detonate at the bottom.

Then BOOM.

A crater ten to twenty feet across would appear, a massive trench across I-95 that would stop any vehicles.

Muldoon’s squad pulled security. They watched their sectors but frequently glanced at the engineers like excited children waiting for Christmas. The explosion was going to be a hell of a thing to see. The boys did love their toys.

The only problem was time. The whole thing was taking way too long. The engineers were bickering over proper placement of the demolition charges. Muldoon thought Lieutenant Donald would put an end to it. Instead, he took out a tape measure.

“Lieutenant!” Muldoon called. “We’re on the clock here.”

Donald frowned. “This has to be done properly, Sergeant.”

“We’re going to have company real, real soon.”

“My orders were to do it right.”

“Contact!” Ramirez said.

Muldoon grabbed the binoculars. “What you got?”

“A whole lot of Nasty Girls, Sergeant.”

He brought the view into focus. Visibility was poor. Smoke drifted like fog across the highway from fires burning on the other side of the reservoir. A column of vehicles and soldiers emerged from the haze. Humvees. Five-tons belching exhaust. Bands of infantry hoofing it.

No armor. Good.

Still, it was going to be a close thing.

He raised the binoculars again.

A swarm of Klowns emerged from the trees next to the highway. The usual freak show of ragged clothes, self-mutilations, homemade weapons, grisly trophies and naked captives on leashes. They raced across the southbound lanes toward the National Guard.

Come on! Muldoon wanted to scream at the Guard. They’re coming right at you!

They did nothing. They didn’t even appear to notice the Klowns.

Ramirez shook his head. “What the hell are they doing?”

You’re about to be attacked, you idiots! Fire! Fire!

The Klowns ran straight at the Guard and fell into step with the column.

Muldoon felt the blood drain from his face.

Aw, shit.