Page 1 of Breaking Danger (Ghost Ops #3)

CHAPTER ONE

In the air from Mount Blue in northern California to San Francisco

Hang in there, Sophie Daniels, Jon Ryan thought grimly.

I’m coming for you as fast as I can. Whatever you do, whatever it takes, stay alive.

He’d only seen her in photographs and only knew of her through her friend, Elle Connelly, who had also worked at Arka Pharmaceuticals.

He knew only that she was beautiful and smart.

A researcher, a virologist, and now a vulnerable woman surrounded by danger.

Jon Ryan looked down at the ravaged, smoking landscape.

His stealth helicopter basically flew itself and for the first time he regretted that.

Having to pay attention to flying would have kept his mind off what he was seeing below him.

Death. Destruction. Chaos. Small, writhing figures possessed by a demon of violence visible even from above.

He’d already seen at least a hundred people in the process of being torn apart, limb from limb.

Not by biker types or methheads, oh no. By people dressed as office drones or executives or even kids.

He watched as a police officer in uniform ate the face off a woman.

Who was doing her best to eat him right back.

There were so many columns of smoke he didn’t bother flying around them but arrowed his way through. The helo’s air filters could take care of the smoke.

Pity they couldn’t filter out his feelings.

The helo was hermetically sealed so he didn’t smell the smoke. But he knew what burning vehicles smelled like. And burning people.

The world was dying, right before his eyes. There was the tiniest spark of hope waiting for him on Beach Street along the waterfront in San Francisco. Sophie Daniels. A woman, a scientist with a vaccine against the virus that was tearing humanity apart. The Doom Bug.

Jon had never met her but she was Elle Connolly’s best friend.

Elle Connolly soon to be Elle Ross. He knew that in his teammate Nick Ross’s eyes, Elle was already his wife.

Nick had loved Elle forever and had lost her and then found her again.

Just before scumbags who worked for Arka Pharmaceutical’s security system tried to kill her.

Arka was responsible for murdering the world, its death throes visible right below him.

But the world—or at least a small part of it—might survive if he got to Sophie Daniels in time.

If she was still alive. If he could smuggle her out of a San Francisco with an estimated 600,000 monsters roaming the streets.

If they could replicate that vaccine in a lab that was even now being prepped back at Haven on Mount Blue. If the vaccine worked.

A long shot, but the only one they had.

Otherwise, the rest of his probably short life would be spent holed up in their community in Haven which was not yet completely self-sufficient and wait out the death of the world and then their own.

Was Sophie Daniels still alive?

He remembered the last email Sophie sent to her friend and colleague, Elle.

Elle, I think Arka has bioengineered a virulently contagious virus that takes out the neocortex and activates the limbic system.

If you’re reading this, then you’ll know that the virus has been unleashed.

I hacked into the files and I discovered that there is a vaccine.

It was in Dr. Lee’s office in the Arka building, in a case which also contained the live virus.

There was so much chaos that I was able to steal it.

So I have a refrigerator case of 200 vials of vaccine and 4 doses of live virus.

The electricity has gone out and I don’t think the coolant in the case will last much more than 96hours.

I’m in my apartment on Beach Street and I don’t dare go out.

These…creatures are running around in the streets.

All I can do is stay locked up in the apartment and hope that someone can come for me.

If you’re reading this, Elle, send someone. This vaccine is our only hope.

Soph

They’d received that message twenty four hours ago. Elle had replied that he was on his way. Jon wanted to head out immediately. Go grab her and the vaccine and bring her back to safety. Their little stealth helo could make it to San Francisco and back in a few hours, easy.

His boss, Tom ‘Mac’ McEnroe’s wife, Catherine, was a brainiac like Elle.

She and Elle had started immediately setting up a lab to mass produce the vaccine.

‘Setting up’ being a euphemism for ‘stealing’.

Mac and Nick and a couple of the men at Haven were on their way to a lab that was due to be inaugurated next month and now never would, to try to scavenge equipment.

Haven had a separate comms system and Mac and Nick and the other men were in constant contact with the two egghead women to make sure they used the five-finger discount on the right stuff.

The lab was to be set up in time for Sophie’s arrival which would be as fast as his helo could fly.

That had been the plan.

But in this new world, no plans worked. He’d had to leave their main helo on the rooftop of the Arka skyscraper in the Financial District of San Francisco.

He was flying an older helo which had been in maintenance and instead of heading out immediately, he’d headed out 24 hours late because the rotor head had to be replaced and they had to go steal one in what had become Badlands overnight.

Twenty four hours was a long time in this new world. Time enough for Sophie Daniels to be caught and ripped to pieces. Time enough for the whole of fucking San Francisco to turn. Time enough for her to turn. Jesus.

At least her building was intact. He could see it both from the Keyhole satellite feed and their own drones that Mac and Nick had sent to hover over the Beach Street area.

To top it off, her internet connection had broken down.

His was still functioning. Haven had an almost unbreakable connection, their servers in an impenetrable underground bunker about a mile away from Haven, safe and impregnable.

So he could talk to Haven and they could listen in and connect with anyone whose connection still worked.

Sophie’s didn’t. Jon had done a fast check and the entire northern section of San Francisco was down.

He was flying in blind, without knowing what was at the other end. Knowing only that monsters were roaming the streets.

The creatures seemed to be able to find healthy people and go after them with unparalleled ferocity.

Did they smell the healthy? God only knew.

He didn’t. Jon was a warrior and had been trained all his adult life in the warrior arts.

But as a covert operative for the CIA and then a member of the elite and secret Ghost Ops group, he’d also received extensive training in other black arts.

Computer security, orienteering, a basic knowledge of mechanical engineering and even medic training.

He was a master liar, really good at undercover ops.

But absolutely nothing in his training prepared him for this. For humanity going feral. Overnight.

Jon glanced down to the left and saw two kids up a tree.

Two little kids, clinging to each other.

And at the base of the tree, like a frothing mass of madness, ten, maybe fifteen infected.

According to Elle’s pretty friend Sophie, with the neocortex out, the infected couldn’t plan.

They couldn’t find a ladder to climb up to the kids but by god they could pound against the trunk of the tree, loosening the kids’ hold.

Jon watched as one of the kids lifted his head, staring at his helo. He couldn’t see Jon. The cockpit was covered with a bulletproof graphene coating that tinted the windows, making everything in the cockpit completely invisible, even to thermal and IR imagery.

All the kid could see was a piece of machinery working.

Maybe the last piece of working machinery in the world.

And clearly someone uninfected was flying.

The kid’s mouth opened in a silent scream that didn’t penetrate the insulated cockpit.

The kid let go of the branch he was holding and waved desperately, eyes and mouth wide, face turning as Jon flew by.

At the base, an infected, by chance, managed to make it to within a few inches of the kid’s leg by climbing over another infected. It brushed the kid’s shoe with its fingertips.

The kid would be dead within the hour. Maybe before. Both of them were as good as dead.

Jon turned his head away as he flew past.

A second, two. Then—” Goddammit!”

He slapped the dashboard, hard enough to hurt. It didn’t affect the dashboard, of course, which was made of a highly resistant epoxy resin, strong enough to survive a crash intact. All he did was hurt his hand and vent his feelings a little.

He checked his radar, a new system that had a hundred-mile radius. The helo itself was stealth and never showed up on anyone else’s radar. The 100 mile radius served him so he wouldn’t crash into another aircraft, but there were no other aircraft on his radar.

In the space of half a day, all aircraft had been grounded. It was possible there were no pilots left in California, maybe the US. If not by today then by tomorrow.

“Little Bird, you copy?” A deep voice crackled in his ear. Mac, back at base. Jon tapped the earbud.

“Copy. Sitrep.” Please , he thought. Give me some good news.

“Not good, Jon,” Mac’s deep voice was somber.

“All TV channels have lost regular programming. There’s an announcement by Governor Spielberg ordering a curfew effective immediately.

Everyone is to keep off the streets. But it’s pre-recorded and on a loop.

We haven’t heard anything new in hours, except… ”

Jon’s hand tightened on the stick. “Except?”