Ever Onward Read Online Free

address.’ Jocco grinned. Even
the local whore-house had suddenly packed up and blown
away.
    His pulse raced. With every passing
moment years of conditioning dropped away, leaving him stripped to
the emotional bone. His smile widened. Ex-pimp, ex-pusher and now,
ex-private in the army of the late-great United States of
fucking-America! Ain’t life grand?!
    Just then a horn sounded. Jocco saw a
jeep stop out front. Lieutenant Pinkton from Personnel I presume?
Jocco took the bottle from the bar and sat down facing the door. He
then placed his .45 automatic on the table next to the bottle. He
intended to give Pinkton a choice. Join his little team of carefree
survivors or join the other silent snoozers that now seemed to
litter the outside world.
    It was while pondering such weighty
questions as these that the plane passed overhead.

 
    Chapter 4 : DEATH’S SHADOW
    Miramar Naval Air Station
    San Diego, California, June
22
    The young pilot, Squadron Leader Ben
Hymus, his eyes wide and nervous, caught up with Lieutenant Sam
Waterson at the open hatch of the troop plane. Like the rest of
them, he’d been told to report for active duty only fifteen minutes
ago.
    “What’s up, L.T.? Why the big
scramble? And why this old piece of shit?” He rapped the
camouflaged skin of the B-17.
    As they spoke, a truck pulled up and
men wearing what looked like space suits jumped out and began
loading heavy equipment into the plane. Most of the boxes were
marked with big red letters: Property of the U.S. Government.
Department of Chemical Warfare.
    Lieutenant Waterson shrugged. “No
idea, Ben. All I know is that the brass has gone absolutely
bat-shit. There’s some talk about a plague outbreak, but nothing
confirmed.”
    “’ Plague?! ’, Hymus
echoed. “Where?”
    Waterson shrugged again. “Out in the
Big Nothing.”
    “China Lake?”, Hymus said. “Christ, ‘Big Nothing’ is right! That’s up near Death
Valley.”
    Waterson’s smile looked more like a
nervous twitch. “Join the Navy and see the world, son. Isn’t that
what they told you?”
    Hymus grunted, watching the space
suits continue to load boxes into the B-17’s big belly. “It’s been
some time since I flew one of these babies. Hope to Hell I remember
how.”
    Waterson slapped him on the shoulder.
“It’s like getting laid, Ben; once in the saddle, it all comes back
to you. Besides, half the guys coming with us are pilots, myself
included.”
    A space suit strode over to them and
swung open his face mask. Both Waterson and Hymus recognized
Colonel Jackson Carter and began to salute.
    “At ease, men. No time for
formalities. Haul your asses in there and get suited up. We’re
leaving in five minutes!”
    Colonel Carter was wrong; they were
airborne in three.
    Lieutenant Waterson was having one
hell of a time fighting down the panic. Outwardly calm, his stomach
kept wanting to throw up. Twenty minutes into the flight he left
the co-pilot’s seat, nodded to Squadron Leader Hymus, and went back
into the belly of the B-17.
    The boxes were unpacked now, and the
Chemical Warfare people were hard at work at whatever the hell it
was they do. Lights were flashing and scopes were whirling, but
these all dimmed by comparison to the red rage on Colonel Carter’s
face. He was literally punching a portable console, and getting
anything but satisfying results.
    Waterson walked over to Major Chino
Fetti, an old friend and one of the colonel’s aids. Fetti saw him
and leaned forward, their faceplates almost touching. Waterson saw
sweat beading the other man’s face. The skin-tone looked
gray.
    “It looks bad , Sam. The old
man’s about to bust a gut!”
    “How bad?” Waterson didn’t miss the
catch in his voice.
    “No answer at any base in the
south-west,” Fetti replied nervously. “None of them! What’s more,
it’s been confirmed now. Chemicals were used! Somewhere in southern
Cal. Looks like we’ve been caught with our fucking pants
down!”
    Waterson’s mind