“Take your time,” Whitney replied gently.
He measured it out using his fingers, estimating the distance from downtown Seattle to Burlington. “It looks to be sixty to seventy miles to the north of downtown Seattle, right on the interstate. I’m using a map that was torn out of a middle school textbook, so forgive me if my measurements aren’t exact.”
There was another ripple of chuckles, and Williams playfully said, “You have quite the resourceful Captain there, General Stephens. I can see why you promoted him.”
Stephens barked a laugh. “What can I say, Mister President, I know talent when I see it.”
Kersey shook his head and then cleared his throat. “Miss Hill, look for a river along the interstate, that should get you to where I’m looking.” He stared at the small town as she looked, with two bridges running over a river.
“Okay Captain,” Whitney finally said. “We’re looking at what you are. Looks like there is an interstate bridge over the river, as well as a city street one just to the east of it.”
“Captain, I appreciate you contributing and all, but if we are going to reach the Western Canadian oil fields after this mission, we can’t be out here destroying bridges over the interstate,” Adams cut in. “Unless you know a good construction crew, that is.” He laughed and there were a few chuckles that sounded to be further away in the room where he was.
Kersey waited a beat and then spoke. “General, I appreciate your attempt at levity, as it is especially needed in dark times like these,” he said, no amount of humor in his voice. “However, if you had let me make my point, you would know that I wasn’t suggesting we blow up the bridge.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Adams replied, “You have my apologies, Captain,” he said, with a touch of dejection. “Please proceed with your point.”
“Thank you, General,” Kersey replied, and cleared his throat again, leaning over the map. “My suggestion is that we send in a covert team before the full scale attack begins and have them secure the bridge. There should be enough vehicles in the area that a fortified barricade can be constructed. While it won’t be enough to withstand the full brunt of a hundred thousand strong horde, it should be enough to buy time to get a stronger force up there once the invasion force has been moved into theater. In addition to that, part of the covert team can be diverted to the north of the bridge, taking up residence on top of buildings near the interstate, acting as a diversion.”
“I might add that this diversion technique worked very well for Captain Kersey in his assault on Spokane,” Stephens piped up.
“I like the idea, and think it could be quite effective,” John added. “My only concern is how to get this covert team onto the bridge without detection.”
Kersey took a deep breath, straightening up in his chair. “An air drop would be the most effective way,” he suggested. “Find the closest rural area, drop them in, and let them go to work.”
“Do you have a backup plan, though?” John asked. “Because not only is our Naval fleet another day out, but we are severely limited when it comes to aircraft. We had to ditch most of our air and water craft in order to make room for troops during the evacuation.”
The Captain nodded. “Well, just this morning we were able to secure a municipal airfield that is only about a hundred miles from the target, and there were several consumer grade aircrafts that appear to still be in working order,” he explained. “I have a team of mechanics inspecting it now, so by tomorrow I should have the ability to drop in a team right where they need to go.”
“How many troops are we talking?” John asked.
Kersey cocked his head, mentally calculating. “Thirty, maybe forty. More than enough to get the job done.”
“That works for me,” John replied.
There was a moment where Kersey assumed the President’s men were all looking around at each other for approval.
“Captain, I believe we are all in agreement here,” Adams finally said. “Make whatever preparations you need to be mission ready by this time tomorrow.”
Kersey nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Does everybody feel comfortable with the plan for the north?” Williams asked, and after a chorus of Yes, Mister President, he continued, “Good. Now, let’s move on to the southern problem. Miss Hill, if you would, please.”
“Thank you, Mister President,” Whitney replied. “Portland poses another risk due to the two and a half million in pre-war metro population. We had numerous discussions about taking out the I-5 bridge over the river, which would have cut off a significant portion of the threat, but ultimately decided against it.”
“Pardon me, Miss Hill,” Williams cut in, “but may I ask why?”
“To put it bluntly,” she replied, “it came down to future planning and expansion. If we destroy that bridge, it could take years, even decades, to rebuild it. And that’s assuming that our stadium shelters were able to secure the proper engineers and workers with the capability to design and build it.”
Williams sighed. “I’m just concerned that we are potentially risking the success of this mission on plans we may not be able to act on for years, if at all,” he admitted.
“I understand, Mister President,” Whitney assured him, “but there is another issue at hand.”
There were sharp clicking noises as she typed on her keyboard, and Kersey waited patiently for the President to look at whatever it was she was bringing up on her screen.
“What am I looking at?” Williams asked.
“A massive zombie horde,” she replied. “It’s hard to get a read on the size, but it’s easily in the tens of thousands. Could be approaching a hundred thousand.”
The President gasped. “What are they doing that far away from the city?”
“Unknown,” Whitney admitted. “Our best guess is that something, or someone, got their attention and has been leading them out of the city.”
Williams paused, a dead silence falling over the line. “Are you saying there are survivors in Portland?” he asked.
“If I was forced to place a bet, I would say yes,” Whitney said. “A couple thousand zombies in the middle of nowhere could be a coincidence. This many is most likely deliberate. So even if we took out the bridge over the river, we would still have to deal with this group.”
“What’s your recommendation?” Williams asked immediately.
“Surgical strikes within the city itself,” she replied. “Draw the zombies back to where they came, and hopefully be enough to keep them there during our fight for Seattle.”
The President paused, and then asked, “What about the survivors, assuming there are any?”
“I have a dedicated member of my team who is poring over satellite feeds from the last week to try and identify where the survivors might be,” Whitney explained. “We are going to be taking our best guess as to their whereabouts, and selecting the targets accordingly.”
“I have faith that you and your team will do everything in your power to limit civilian casualties, while still accomplishing the objective,” Williams said firmly.
“Thank you, Mister President,” Whitney replied.
He took a deep breath. “Are there any other issues that need to be brought up for our northern and southern flanks?” he asked.
There was a chorus of negatives from his room, and then General Stephens said, “I have nothing else to add. Captain?”
“I’m good as well,” Kersey replied.
“Very well,” Williams said. “Next up, Seattle.”
“Mister President,” Stephens piped up, “before we get started, I would like to request that Captain Kersey go over what he found to be effective during the Spokane operation.”
“Very well General,” Williams replied. “Captain Kersey, the floor is yours.”
Kersey gulped and took a deep breath, calming his racing heart. He knew his persuasiveness could mean the difference between lives lost and sustained.
“Thank you, Mis
ter President,” he began, and cleared his throat. “For the Spokane operation, I had very little resources to work with. I only had a few thousand men, limited ammunition, and a single helicopter with offensive capabilities. Due to these limitations, a stand-up fight was not going to be possible.”
“I’m sorry, stand up fight?” Williams cut in. “What do you mean by that?”
Kersey leaned forward in his chair. “Essentially a firing line,” he explained. “Where we would set up troops on the interstate and draw them to us, gunning them down as they come at us.”
“I understand,” Williams said.
Kersey nodded. “With these limitations, I employed a plan that basically broke down into three components,” he continued. “Distraction, containment, and cleanup. The goal was to ensure that the bulk of my force was never in a position to get overwhelmed, which was where the distraction element came in. On a large scale, I had troop clusters spread throughout the city, with a team at the island park in the center, as well as a team on the western front. Their primary goal was to attract as much attention to themselves as possible, which would distract from my main force moving in from the east.”
“How big were these strike teams?” John asked.
Kersey wrapped his hands around his mug. “Initially they were between fifty and seventy-five. My western team eventually required a hundred men due to higher than expected casualties, while setting up the initial blockade on the bridge.”
“May I ask what happened?” John cut in politely.
Kersey took a deep breath. “A few men behind the front lines were ambushed by some zombies and quickly became runners,” he explained. “The majority of the men were concentrating on a group coming their way, so they never saw the runners coming. If it wasn’t for a combination of quick thinking and extremely good luck, it could have derailed the entire operation.”
There was a short silence, and then Williams asked, “Something on your mind, John?”
“It can wait,” John assured him. “Please Captain, continue.”
Kersey nodded. “In addition to the large scale diversion teams, I had smaller teams that went a couple miles ahead of the main force,” he said. “We managed to commandeer some transfer trucks, which allowed us to send in these eight to ten man groups to shopping centers to create a hub of activity. This not only allowed them to pick off zombies, but made the job of the main force that much easier.”
“Captain, I know you had casualty issues with the larger diversion forces,” Adams cut in gruffly. “What was the rate for these smaller teams?”
Kersey smiled to himself. “We had a broken ankle when one man slipped off of the ladder and landed hard on the top of the truck.”
There was a stunned silence. “No deaths?” Adams asked.
“No, sir,” Kersey replied, shaking his head. “Not with these teams in Spokane.”
The General clucked his tongue. “That’s an odd way of parsing things, Captain,” he drawled. “Is there something you would like to inform us about?”
“We had a few deaths the day before with one of those teams,” Kersey admitted. “But it was entirely due to a Sergeant not following orders and endangering the mission. He has since been dealt with accordingly.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Adams replied.
“I have to admit, your distraction plan is intriguing,” John piped up. “We are facing an enemy, for all its strengths, that is thankfully quite dumb. But I am curious about the containment portion of your plan.”
Kersey took a deep breath. “This was born out of necessity, and initially I wasn’t sure how well it was going to work, but pleasantly surprised at how effective it was,” he admitted. “My main force was tasked with two objectives: eliminate every zombie out in the open, and make sure that every structure they came across was secure. If it was locked up tight, or could easily be made so, it was marked and they moved on.”
“Even if there were zombies inside?” Whitney asked.
“That’s correct,” Kersey said. “If the creatures weren’t an immediate threat, I treated them as such.”
“What if a structure wasn’t securable?” she asked.
“A small team was broken off to clear it as quickly as possible before they continued moving,” he explained.
“And what sort of plan did you have for the contained threat?” Whitney asked.
Kersey leaned back in his chair. “We had a nominal force that trailed the main group that would clear every one of the structures,” he replied. “It was extremely time consuming, but with proper safety protocols, we were able to clear the city with minimal casualties, even if it took some time.”
“Based on what you’ve seen with Seattle, do you think a similar plan can be enacted here?” John piped up.
The Captain took a deep breath. “I do,” he said, “however, it is going to require a lot more steps and a lot more moving parts to make it so. In the Seattle metro area, we are going to be facing anywhere from three to four million of those things. And I don’t know what kind of forces you have on the ships, but we only have a hundred and sixty-five thousand men on this side of things.”
“Captain, with the ships we will have for this assault, you can expect an additional forty to fifty thousand troops,” Adams cut in. “I can get you exact numbers, I just don’t have them in front of me.”
“Understood, General,” Kersey replied.
“Captain Kersey, please stand by,” Williams said suddenly. “I need to put you on hold for a moment.”
The Captain nodded. “Of course, Mister President.”
As the line went silent, Kersey reached over and grabbed his thermos, filling up his coffee mug. Thoughts raced through his mind like wildfire. He wondered if they were taking his information seriously, or if this was just another lip-service moment he’d experienced numerous times throughout his military career.
His heart sank a bit as he thought about all of the times his advice to higher-ups could have saved lives, watching helplessly as it was dismissed due to someone wanting to make a name for themselves by putting their own plan in place.
The line clicked back on, and he blinked away his dark thoughts.
“Captain Kersey, you with us?” Williams asked.
He nodded. “Yes, Mister President.”
“We’ve discussed things on our end,” Williams replied, “and based on what you’ve told us, we would like to hear your thoughts on how you would handle the Seattle invasion if you were in charge. While our teams have been working on a comprehensive invasion plan, I feel like it would be worthwhile to hear your thoughts on the matter.
Kersey blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing until he finally stammered, “Of… of course Mister President.” He cleared his throat, suddenly dry as the Sahara. “May I request a short recess so that I can give the map a once over and come up with a rough plan?”
“Of course, Captain,” Williams replied. “Let’s reconvene in ten.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Everyone in the Presidential war room got situated, gathering around their respective microphones as the sound of shuffling papers came through on Kersey’s end.
“Captain Kersey, are you ready?” Williams asked, leaning forward and folding his hands together on the table.
“Yes, Mister President,” the Captain replied, voice coming through loud and clear.
Williams nodded to his colleagues, who were ready with their writing implements. “Please proceed.”
“The way I see it,” Kersey began, “with the overwhelming force of three to four million zombies, our only real chance at success is going to be breaking them up and pulling them in numerous directions. I don’t have access to satellite imagery, but I would assume the streets of downtown are packed with these ghouls?”
Whitney leaned forward. “Yes, Captain,” she confirmed. “The downtown areas of both Seattle and Tacoma are quite dense, as are the streets of the suburbs to the north, south, and east of downtown.”
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p; “Thank you, Miss Hill,” Kersey replied. “With this in mind, our number one target should be Mercer Island, which is in the lake just to the east of downtown Seattle.”
Williams inclined his head to Whitney. “Can you pull that up, please?” he asked.
She typed on her laptop for a moment, and then zoomed in on the island. It was relatively large, with numerous neighborhoods and a massive retail district on the north side. The interstate ran across the northern part, the only connection to the east and west banks of the river.
Adams grunted. “That looks all kinds of problematic.”
“How so, General?” Kersey asked politely.
Adams waved his hand at the screen dismissively. “Well, for starters, it looks heavily developed, especially on the north end.”
“Development can help us if we use it properly,” Kersey replied.
The General wrinkled his nose with distaste, but looked at the President for his input.
“Miss Hill, do we have any information on the island?” Williams asked.
Whitney began to dig through the papers in front of her. “I would imagine so, just need a moment,” she said, and handed a stack over to John.
He looked through his own papers and then consolidated hers with what he had. “Okay, got it,” he said. “There were twenty-six thousand residents pre-war.”
“And with only one road leading off the island,” Whitney pointed out, “it’s a good bet most of them are still there.”
Williams took a deep breath. “Captain, before we get into logistics on how to take the island,” he said into the microphone, “why do you think it should be the top target?”
“Just like in real estate, it’s all about location, location, location,” Kersey replied, eliciting a chuckle from the room. “With the proximity to downtown and the heart of the eastern suburb, if we can get a large enough force on there, even five hundred men, it could draw a large number of zombies from both sides.”
John drew his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment and then leaned forward. “Captain, there are other islands near Seattle,” he pointed out. “Like Vashon Island to the west of downtown for example. That one is only accessible via ferry, so the odds of it having significant opposition would be minimal.”
Dead America The Third Week Box Set | Books 7-12 Page 39