“No, you won’t,” she said and left. There were at least four people waiting on flimsy folding chairs in the waiting area. One middle aged woman was staring at the bloody smears on the floor with some alarm. No one had had the time to clean them up after Schardt was brought in. There were also six bodies covered with tarps behind the trailer.
The young assistant quickly wrapped a bandage around his head. Cobb tested it, then smiled at the kid who popped off a salute. Cobb smiled and saluted the kid back, then headed to the door. Outside, he found most of the surviving soldiers waiting for him.
Sergeant Zim stood at the front of the group. “Sorry, Colonel, I should have stopped you.”
“There was no way you could have known the lengths Groves would go to,” Cobb said. Zim had sat with him while Schardt was in surgery, the two going over what had happened. They’d grabbed guns and gear to hurry after him, only collecting Tango because the young Marine was coming to talk to them anyway.
“If we had, we’d have shot the psycho bitch days ago.”
Cobb looked across the assembled soldiers and saw anger, regret, and grim determination. He knew they needed to hear something. “What’s happened is over with,” he said. “God knows, if the chain of command still existed, there’d be months of inquiries, court cases, you name it. As it is, we’re through.”
“What about Private Miller?” asked Corporal Tango who wasn’t out of his gear and hadn’t been seen by the doc yet. He was bare chested, a huge blue-black bruise growing on his abdomen.
They’d locked Miller in an equipment trailer while Schardt was tended to. Cobb had had to send them back to make sure it wasn’t an airtight trailer. They’d all wanted to throw him overboard and feed him to the zombies. Cobb had had to remind them that doing so was no better than what Groves had planned for him.
“For now, he stays in custody. Zim, detail a squad to establish a detention area for the long term.”
Zim nodded. Cobb could tell he was on the side of those who wanted to feed Miller to the infected. He hoped his feelings didn’t become a problem.
“Changes,” Cobb said. “From now on, all soldiers are to be armed at all times. No questions asked. Sidearm minimum, with four extra magazines each. I also want everyone to have a go-bag next to their bunk. Body armor, if you have it, and a radio. Zim will work with our supply people to make this happen. Those of you who have not qualified with a pistol recently will need to do so.
“Make no mistake, we’re all sworn members of the United States Armed Forces. I don’t care if you signed up a week before the plague or 20 years before. I left after my 20, more than a few years ago, but here I stand. We’re in it for the duration. Look around you when you leave this meeting; these people need us. We’re going to help. It’s what we do.”
They all looked at him for a second, then came to attention. Every man and woman saluted him and held it. He gladly returned the respect.
“Oorah!” the Marines barked.
“Hooah!” the army replied.
“Hooyah!” called the navy. The air force just stood respectfully. Cobb saw the army and Marines exchange grins, and he was glad they didn’t take the interservice rivalry too far. Applause followed.
Cobb took Zim aside. “We need to talk to Governor Taylor.”
“I guessed you’d be wanting to do that,” Zim said.
Tango walked over, pulling a T-shirt over his still growing bruise. “You grunts aren’t going anywhere without me.”
“Corporal, you need to report to the doctor,” Cobb said.
“She’s busy, Colonel.” Cobb narrowed his eyes. “I’ll see her today, I promise, sir.”
Cobb didn’t believe him in the least. Of course, after his own insurrection against the good doctor, he was on shaky ground. If he ordered the corporal to see the doctor, she’d likely rat him out. He frowned, and in the long tradition of a soldier getting their way against the better judgement of their superior officer, Tango knew right away he’d won.
A huge grin crossed his face, and he walked over to the other Marines, talked to them for a second, then came back with a carbine and some fresh magazines that he stuffed into his freshly donned webgear.
“We’re not going to fight,” Cobb said.
“Just like we didn’t with Private Groves?” the Marine asked.
Cobb snorted, then nodded. Zim handed Cobb his rifle and more mags. Okay, he saw how it worked. He’d also noticed everyone now referred to Groves as a private. Word had gotten around quickly. Once he’d checked his gear, he nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
Shangri-La’s headquarters was another trailer. This one, though, was a fancy, modern fifth wheel. The brand was “Mobil Suites”, and it was painted gold and white. What’s more, it had multiple slide out rooms and even a small 2nd floor which was raised up to give a view!
A trailer adjacent to it was immediately recognizable as a mobile army comms shack. Modular and portable, you could load it onto a truck or even a Humvee. He suspected he’d found Bisdorf’s home while he was in Shangri-La. The profusion of antennas was enough to give it away. As they walked, he saw the heavyset man on the roof adjusting one of the antennas. Bisdorf spotted Cobb and started to wave, then he saw Zim and Tango marching alongside and froze.
He scrambled toward the ladder leaning against his trailer, and Cobb wondered if they were about to get into another firefight. They stopped and waited for the older man to carefully make his way to the ground. As Bisdorf hustled toward them, he looked nervously over his shoulder toward the command trailer.
“I can’t believe you’re alive,” he said.
“Paul,” Cobb said, holding up a hand to stop him. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“With what, Paul?” Cobb demanded. The other man looked down, and suddenly the pieces clicked into place. “Oh, fuck me. She did it all, didn’t she?”
“What?” Zim asked. “Who did what?”
“The governor sent us down there to die.” Bisdorf was shaking his head, tears coursing down his cheeks. “She planned on our not making it back. Probably hoped the master sergeant would go all John Wayne when we got in the shit and come down to help, then she’d make it a clean sweep.”
“Now?” Tango asked, knife-handing at Bisdorf. “With this fucker?”
“No, he wasn’t even there.” Cobb looked at the man. “What’s she got on you, your wife?”
“My daughter,” Bisdorf sobbed.
“Quickly tell me what happened.” Cobb didn’t notice Tango talking into a mic.
“When we found her, she had a dozen state police with her. She kind of insinuated her way into control. Nobody wanted it, but she had the air of authority. She hadn’t been here a day before she had her cop buddies scoping out the place. A few days ago, they moved. They kidnapped our family members—my daughter, Clark’s husband, and Hans Daimler’s grandchildren. Staff Sergeant Groves fell in with her right away.”
“The man from her group who went down with us wasn’t accidental, was it?”
“No,” Bisdorf said. “He was going to make sure you, Tango, and Zim got infected. He had syringes with infected blood.”
“Mutherfucker,” Tango hissed.
“You were the fly in the ointment. She needed time to get the military on her side.”
“Paul,” Cobb said. “You do know, if she’d succeeded, you guys would probably have been next?”
“It’s my daughter,” he sobbed.
“I get it. I don’t suppose the people I came in with were actually in quarantine?”
“No,” Bisdorf confirmed. “They’re hostages with the rest. Amelia and her Angels are charged with caring for the hostages.”
“She’s in on it too?” Tango asked, shaking his head.
“Yes, she was with FEMA. She helped us originally, but when the governor came it all changed. They knew each other from before.”
“I’m sorry; we never realized,” Zim said.<
br />
Cobb patted the sergeant on the shoulder. “You had more than enough to do without watching them.” He looked back at Bisdorf. “What were you doing with the antenna?”
“After you mentioned your people went west, I started looking for any signs of them. Taylor told me not to, but I didn’t care.”
“Did you find them?” he asked, feeling a thrill of excitement.
“I think so.”
Later, he told himself. First things first. “What do you want us to do?”
“Can you help?” he asked. “Will you help?”
“Of course, we’ll help,” Zim said. “Damnit, why didn’t you say something?”
“Would you if it was your family?” Cobb asked.
“Yeah, of course!” Bisdorf gave the sergeant a baleful stare. “Maybe. Fuck, I don’t know.”
Cobb backed a few feet away from the man, and his NCOs followed. He looked at the two and spoke. “What do you men think?” The looks on their combat weary faces said it all. He faced Tango. “Okay, get Privates Port and Betts up and have them bring their toys. I have a job for them. You too.” Tango’s tired grin became feral.
* * *
Lieutenant Governor Taylor looked up as the door opened. She didn’t seem at all surprised to see Cobb come in. The two police officers who always seemed to be near her immediately came to full alert as he entered. The governor was sitting in a big, plush office chair behind a desk which would have been more at home in her old office than in a fifth wheel trailer. They were floating hundreds of feet above Amarillo, so it was a strange tableau indeed.
Taylor blinked twice as she looked him over—his disheveled appearance, his M-4 hanging on a 1-point harness from his web gear, his side arm and magazines. She paused when she noticed the blood-stained garments and the bandage around his head. “Ah wasn’t expecting you, Colonel Pendleton.”
“No, I expect you weren’t.” The view from the elevated level of the fifth wheel was impressive. The edge of Shangri-La was quite close, and the window was higher than the nearest trailer.
“What was all the shooting about?” Taylor asked.
“You politicians,” Cobb said and laughed. He shook his head and sighed.
“Ahm afraid I don’t know what y’all are talking about.”
Cobb finished giving the room a once over, then moved to the side where a plush, leather chair rested and plopped down in it. Taylor’s eyes narrowed, no doubt because it was real leather and his uniform was covered in real blood. The two officers looked from him to Taylor for guidance. She shook her head, and they relaxed slightly.
“You’ve got yourself quite a setup here,” Cobb said. He removed a stick of chewing gum from his pocket, popped it in his mouth, and dropped the wrapper on the floor. This time, Taylor visibly scowled. “I mean, from Lieutenant Governor, an arguably less than useless job in Texas, to emperor. You’ve got the elevated house; all you need is to put on a chainmail dress and change Amarillo’s name to Barter Town.”
“Ah don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Bless your heart,” Cobb said. Taylor did a doubletake, and he smiled hugely. “You know, I was willing to ignore everything, until you decided I was an obstacle to your dictatorial plans.”
“Maybe y’all forget you work for me, Colonel. You swore to do what elected leaders say.”
“No, I work for the US Government. My oath of office is very specific, Governor. I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God. Nothing in there talks about working for you. You see, you think I took the same oath as the former Private Groves, which included obeying the governor of her state.”
“Former? What did ya do, demote her?”
“You could say that,” Cobb said. “If you consider being shot between the eyes demoted.”
“What?” Taylor blurted, the bullshit, smiling façade finally failing.
“Yeah, you see, that is the cost of treason.” As he said the last, he leaned forward and stared the governor right in the eye. He put on his best poker face and chewed his gum. Juicy Fruit wasn’t his favorite, but it was all Tango had. From Cobb’s experience, Tango was a typical Marine—tough as nails, gung-ho as fuck, and nutty as squirrel shit. “Especially ones who try to kill officers on the orders of wannabe tyrants.”
“I was gonna try and talk sense with y’all,” Taylor said, visibly getting herself under control. “But I can see y’all are just a fuckin’ boy scout. Right, Colonel, a boy scout?” Cobb chewed and watched her. “Since y’all are a boy scout, I’ll have to use it to ma’ advantage.”
Cobb leaned back in the chair and glanced at his watch as casually as he could. Unfortunately, Taylor noticed. However, she jumped to the wrong conclusion.
“You a little worried about comin’ here and startin’ shit?”
“Huh?” Cobb looked toward the door. The two state troopers were looking even more surly. In fact, he thought they looked positively murderous. Good. “You mean your two gorillas? It would take more than a couple pigs like them to make me nervous.”
“Mutherfucker,” the bigger of the two troopers snarled and took a step forward.
“Easy, Franks,” Taylor said.
“Yeah, easy Franks, don’t want to strain your brain by thinking.” Cobb looked again and saw the veins standing out on the man’s neck. He is a big fucker. “You were saying, Taylor?”
“Governor Taylor,” she reminded him. Cobb kept up the deadpan and didn’t respond. “I was sayin’, since y’all are a boy scout, if ya’ don’t calm down, it might not be you who suffers.”
He looked at his watch again and nodded.
“Y’all got a date?”
“No, I’ve been delaying,” he said. She started to say something but stopped, her mouth hanging comically open. “You say being a boy scout is predictable? You’re right. I wanted to make sure the innocents you were holding hostage were safe.” The sounds of gunfire echoed across Shangri-La, and Cobb grinned widely.
Tango and Zim hadn’t liked the idea of letting Cobb go into the lion’s den by himself. However, he hadn’t known for sure whether Taylor’s toadies had seen them talking to Bisdorf. Once they learned about the hostages, they hadn’t had time to recon or hope for a more favorable scenario. Decisive action was required. Decisive action which wouldn’t initiate a firefight. There were more than a few Marines and soldiers who’d been to Afghanistan. Dynamic entry was a technique they’d trained for and done.
The shooting only lasted a few seconds. By the time Taylor thought to grab her radio and start yelling at her men, it was over. She began calling people by name, without response. After the fourth try, she looked at Cobb, her eyes wide in shock.
The sound of a mic clicking three times came from the radio hidden in his breast pocket. The all clear call. Mission accomplished. No complications. He smiled and nodded, letting his breath out slowly.
“You son of a bitch,” Taylor said. “This ain’t over!”
“We got Amelia and her Angels too. Cleaned them all up.”
“What do we do, Boss?” Franks asked. Taylor started laughing. Her whole body shook, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
Cobb turned the chair to get a better view of the two troopers. They were looking from their boss, who was laughing hysterically, to Cobb, then at each other. Clearly, they were confused about what to do. He began to wonder if they were really cops at all.
“Boss?” Franks asked again.
She shook her head and wiped her eyes as she mostly stopped laughing. “What are you two waiting for? Kill him.”
Franks and his partner unholstered their sidearms.
“Not here, you idiots. You think I want blood on my carpets?”
&
nbsp; Still confused, they hesitated a moment before re-holstering their weapons. “Get up,” Franks ordered him.
“Fuck off,” Cobb replied, staring the man down. They hesitated. “Make me.”
“Just get him out of here,” Taylor snarled.
Franks nodded, and the two cops moved over, one on either side of Cobb.
“This is your last chance,” he said to them.
“Or what, big army man?” Franks asked.
“Grab me and find out.”
The other cop finally spoke. “To hell with this,” he said and grabbed Cobb by one arm. Franks grabbed the other. Cobb raised his arms, almost as if he were going to help them get a better grip, then he covered his face with his hands.
“He’s gonna cry,” Franks said. They both started to laugh. Their mirth was suddenly cut short as two 7.62mm bullets passed through the big picture window, then through their heads. They fell limply to the floor where they proceeded to ruin Governor Taylor’s nice carpets.
Taylor screamed, dove out of her chair, and hid behind her desk. She peeked around the corner and gawked at the two former state patrol officers. Franks’ foot spasmed, beating a staccato rhythm on the floor for a few seconds as the rest of his body caught up with the news he was dead.
Cobb stood and waved. The two Marine snipers were about 250 yards away on one of Shangri-La’s cranes. He could just make out Port’s and Betts’ M40A3 bolt action sniper rifles, their scopes catching the morning sunlight. Both men waved in reply, but stayed in position, ready to fire again. One shot, one kill. Marine snipers were among the best in the world, and using them was about the only reason Tango had let Cobb go through with his crazy plan.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!”
Right, one more loose end to tie up. “Governor Taylor, you want to come out, please?”
“Y’all just killed two police officers!” she screamed. “A’ll have you hanged, boy!”
It sounded like she was messing with the drawers to her desk. He suspected he knew what she was doing. “I didn’t kill anyone. US Marines fired the shots. They were under specific orders to only fire if someone acted violently against me or tried to remove me from this office.” Cobb kicked Franks’ boot. The former cop didn’t respond. “In a way, you killed them.”
Turning Point (Book 3): A Time To Live Page 25