Time/Date Error (Damned of the 2/19th-Book Six) - Done

Untitled Part 26

Island-638
Restricted Naval Area
Navigation Hazard Area
North Atlantic
22 March, 1987

0830 Hours

"How dangerous is this disease?" one of the snake eaters asked.

"There's two of them, both of them airborne, and both of them very robust. Normally diseases only last about thirty minutes outside the human body, but according to the notes our deceased friend took, both of them last for literal days. Which means, you stay. Suited. Up," I told them, shading the sun from hitting the armored plexi of my armored J-suit. "Plus, we need to heed her warning, which means we're going to have a tougher time than I thought."

"How so?" Another asked.

"We aren't going to be able to use the positive pressure tent until I confirm or deny the presence of aggressive elements," I told them. "That tent is basically a big rubber balloon, and I don't want you outside of your suit when some aggressor rips a big hole in it, because then..."

I clicked the ignitor and let the dry hiss of the flamethrower punctuate and finish my statement.

I could see one of them plainly through his faceshield through a trick of the light, the other's faceshields were mirrored by the rising sun. He gulped and I saw perspiration bead up and run down his face.

"You all knew what this was, you could have backed out on the carrier," I told them, turning around. "Right now, I've spotted two possible buildings we can use."

"What about one of the houses?" One of them asked.

...they have names...

...so do pets...

I shook my head, waving the flamethrower back and forth too. An old signalling trick I'd picked up during Special Weapons Training at Madhouse. "No. Can't ensure there isn't a dead body in the crawlspace that's infectious."

"Then where?" He asked.

"I saw two buildings, one looks like a warehouse down by the docks, but I'm willing to bet that place is either wired up or worse. Not to mention that building is the furthest away from the 'town', and Special Weapon's doctrine states to leave a building like that wired up with explosives and worse to keep any enemy forces from establishing a beach-head," I told them.

"What about rescue? I mean, we need that building, right?" Another asked. God, they all sounded so young, even though they were probably all older than me.

"There isn't any rescue," I told him. Before he could say anything I kept speaking, clicking the igniter. Damn, that was a tough habit to keep from getting. "We aren't a rescue mission."

"But our briefing..." he tried again.

"Was not a Special Weapon's briefing," I said flatly. "Your briefing was courtesy of the US Naval Intelligence and the CDC."

"Shit," one of them muttered. "Goddamn political bullshit."

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, they gave you the best briefing they could, but politics got in the way," I told them. "Everyone wants to have their fingerprints on solving this, which is why I wasn't included in that briefing until the Admiral gave you your final mission orders."

I chewed on my lip for a moment, staring at the 'town', which was about a half mile away. The island wasn't very big, two miles across, but if you knew your math, you knew, as well as I did, that the island had 12.57 square miles of land.

And who knew how far down.

I knew that they hadn't been briefed on that. They'd been told this was a possible rescue mission, that they were supposed to find any survivors as well as assist me in identifying the disease type.