Gloria was sitting on the couch tying her tennies, ignoring him as he walked in. He noisily dropped the box on the floor and proceeded to the bed and finished dressing. This is just going to be a wonderful fricking day, Caleb thought sarcastically while pouring bottles of water into the pot sitting on the camp stove. He lit the stove up, watching to ensure the blue flames were neither too high nor too low, before attacking the cardboard box with his knife. The first meal he found inside was peanut butter & raisin oatmeal, something to finally look forward to, he thought as he pulled it from the box. He looked back over at Gloria who was still busy ignoring him. “I have the water heating up, if you want breakfast go ahead and grab a meal.” He busied himself by cutting the top of the food package while waiting for the water to get hot enough. Gloria shuffled over and sat down next to him holding a package of huevos rancheros egg scramble mix, she didn’t say anything, but she appeared much more relaxed.
Caleb tried to ignore the heat coming from the water as he poured it into the food package before setting the package in front of Gloria and preparing his own package as well. “Give it a couple minutes to fully saturate; it’ll be less crunchy that way.” Caleb suggested. Gloria replied only with a half nod as she folded over the top of the package to keep the warmth in. Okay, we don’t need to be all chatty. But we do need to have a plan, he thought. “After breakfast, I plan on loading half the truck with food, then assorted supplies we’ll need to use every day when we stop along the way. When we’re on the road, I want to get weapons and ammo. Even if my parents are gone, I plan to set the family farm back up, maybe bring in survivors to help run things. I’ll get a tow dolly for your pickup. When we get to the farm you can take whatever supplies you want and be on your way to Georgia.” Gloria again only gave a half nod in acknowledgement. Caleb bolted from the room ignoring his meal, afraid of what he might say.
Without giving it any thought, he almost ran to one of the forklifts in the warehouse and fired it up. He took a moment to familiarize himself with the controls before driving back to the aisle where the freeze dried foods were located. The infected were doing their best to hide as Caleb occasionally blasted the little horn while going as fast as he thought he could go.
1100 hrs? Caleb sat on the loading platform, surprised the job was done. He just needed to throw in his personal gear and the Ice Queen’s crap and they could be on their way. He didn’t hear or sense her walk up from behind, but he was happy to see the mug of lemonade she had for him.
“If you’re all done, I have a pleasant surprise for you.” Caleb immediately flashed back to the way she felt in bed and could not suppress a grin. “Don’t even go there, fool. I know that look, and that’s not what I’m talking about. Now get in my truck.
Chapter 13
Douglas, Wyoming. April 12, 2029
Captain Bryan Conrad could not believe all the papers that were on his desk in a paperless Air Force. Just like before the apocalypse, he figured 60% of it was bullshit, 30% was misrouted to him, and the remaining 10% were things that needed to be taken care of. The document on his desk had him confused and scared at the same time. A requisition for over a hundred M4s, a dozen squad automatic weapons, and assorted small arms, had made it to his desk. He was the approval authority before they could be issued to a civilian group that claimed they were the new Secret Service, for the president. Reading through the request letter, he noticed the first endorsee was the president’s advisor. Reading the letter further, the advisor stipulated that the president required a personal protection detail he had confidence in. The leader of the new detail was personally vetted by the president and was an experienced lawman with fifteen years of person protection experience. Conrad felt the beginning of a head ache coming on and decided to pass on the problem. He picked up his phone and called for the twins.
Agent Allison Ali pushed a stray hair back under her hijab, steeling herself to enter Captain Conrad’s office. She didn’t like having to work under a junior officer that wasn’t even Army Criminal Investigative Division (CID), especially since in her view he was really an Air Force noncommissioned officer, wearing captain bars. “Hey AA, the captain call you, too?” Ali looked at the Air Force Office of Special Investigations (OSI) Special Agent James Glock and let out a sigh.
“I was just trying to think of what Conrad’s going to ask of us next. Don’t you feel like your talents are being wasted?” Glock narrowed his eyes, and took a moment to phrase his reply.
“I respect Captain Conrad, he’s about as old school as you can get. If he has a job for us, my money is it needs to get done.” He reached forward and knocked twice on the door.
“Enter!” Conrad replied at the knock. He watched both special agents enter his office. The Special Agent he knew was only an E4 Sergeant, with a huge chip on her shoulder. She wore a black hijab that covered her hair; it also rested slightly on her oversized civilian Ike jacket’s shoulders. He’d heard she wore it to cover a small arsenal of weapons. The other special was more of a good ole boy with a knack for being invisible. “Double A, Glock, have a seat.” If he saw Ali glare back at him, he didn’t say anything. “I have a sensitive job for the two of you. I’m the only one you will report your findings to. The president wants a civilian paramilitary organization as his personal protection detail. I need the pair of you to run a background check on the president’s advisor and the projected commander of the unit, reply back only to me. Here’s a list with their names and what little info we have already. I’m going to sit on the request as long as I can, and will also request the list of individuals that will make up the unit. I’ll inform them that we have to certify them before we can even begin issuing them their weapons. That way we can also make sure they’re not freaks on the trigger.” Glock appeared a little uncomfortable to Conrad. “Spit it out, Special Agent Glock.”
“Sir, is this really necessary? It seems to me to be political posturing between the military and the administration.” The agent appeared to cringe while waiting for Conrad’s reply.
“Son, our leader is borderline 25th Amendment as it is. He tried to get the military to swear allegiance to him instead of the Constitution. He doesn’t trust the military, and now wants his own private armed group to protect him from us. We need to know just how potentially dangerous this group is, not just to us, but also to the president.”
President Richard Etchberger stood in the back yard of what he called the temporary White House. In order to have a residence befitting the office of the president, he had the remaining survivors that lived near the golf course south of Douglas relocated by executive order. Now, his fledgling security force resided in all of the residences that surrounded his own.
“Hey Dick, you want me to bring you a fresh drink? You’ve been nursing that one to the point it’s half water.” The president didn’t care for the familiarity that his advisor John Falstaff exhibited, but he tolerated it well since John was his only friend and had been all the way back to their teens when they had rooms next to each other in the residence where he’d been recuperating from a botched suicide attempt and John was finishing up his treatment for opioid addiction. Both were seventeen, and it was the start of a friendship that followed them the rest of their lives; from mental institutions and courtrooms to his eventual appointment as Secretary of the Veterans Affairs, as a political favor to his father.
Falstaff walked over to where Etchberger stood staring over the golf course, appearing deep in thought. Falstaff nudged him with the proffered drink. He looked down at the golden liquid in the crystal glass and smiled. “get enough of those in me and I might forget what a shithole this is. The military is intentionally keeping me cooped up and out of the way. I need to go on TV and radio and have my followers demand the military acquiesce and liberate Cheyenne from those stinking creatures.”
Falstaff choked on his drink, shooting much of it into the air. “Dick, you weren’t elected, and ninety-nine percent of the survivors have no idea who you even are. The mili
tary put you in your office and if you piss them off, I have a feeling they wouldn’t hesitate to take you out of office, if you made enough noise to annoy them.”
“HA! That’ll never happen. I know the secrets they don’t want anyone to know. Did you know the entire mess we’re having now is because of aliens? I was even introduced to one that’s supposed to be our friend.” Etchberger unsteadily dropped down into a lawn chair and looked once more out at the golf course. “They probably have one of those spy microphone thingies listening to us now, ready to assassinate me for spilling the beans.” He paused, as if in self-reflection, then began to snore.
“Dick, how can you be an alcoholic and such a lightweight? I should leave your fat ass out here to freeze, but I don’t want anything to happen to my meal ticket.” He called to a pair of guards, each picked up the chair from their side and carried the unconscious man into the house without a word.
“Porky is out for the count, and has been returned into the house. He did mention the unmentionable. I still have a clear line of sight on him through the window.” Sergeant Handelman radioed from his snipers hide by the water hazard.
“Continue observation and recording. Six out,” was his only additional order as he replied by clicking his microphone twice, before adjusting himself behind his spotting scope, wishing he had better equipment.
Falstaff shuddered for a second as he closed the patio doors, positive he’d seen the reflection from something near the small pond on the golf course, imagining himself in the crosshairs of a sniper. Thinking about what Etchberger had said about being under observation, and then about aliens, he laughed, and flipped the bird in the direction of the pond. “Screw you, ET!”
Chapter 14
Phoenix, Arizona. April 12, 2029
The mountains that encircled Phoenix were still partially blocked by smog, even after almost two weeks since the last of rush hour traffic. “We’re almost there, I just need to go west on Indian School, then we’ll be in the warehouse district where our target is located. I’d be surprised if there aren’t others there already.” Gloria slowly navigated between the abandoned cars on the off ramp from Interstate 17 down to Indian School Road. Caleb unbuckled his seat belt and adjusted his patrol sling, then snapped the clip to his M4. Rolling down his window he became even more alert to his surroundings. After only a few blocks Gloria turned south down a narrow street, each side crowded with warehouses that towered over the street.
“And here we are. One of the biggest gun shops in the state.” Gloria announced as she undid her seat belt and pulled out her 9mm. Caleb noticed immediately that the street and parking lots were full of abandoned trucks and cars. “I’d bet half the cars and truck here have guns in the glove compartments.” Gloria continued as she walked towards the front door. “I liked to shake up any new beau by coming here on a Friday night since it’s Ladies Night, free shooting lane and free gun rental, just pay for the ammo and targets. From there I’d decide where the date went.” Both jerked alert as they saw movement through the glass doors. It was far enough back so it was away from the direct sunlight.
“I sense about twenty or more in there, how about you? Give it a try.” Caleb suggested as he turned to make sure there were no other threats from the street. Gloria tried to empty her head of any thoughts and was rewarded with the sensation of others. She could sense about two dozen of the infected, only a presence but nothing more, no ages or sexes. She ‘just knew’ they were in the building in front of her. She could also now sense the others in the other buildings and blocked them out.
“You’re right, about twenty to twenty-four in there. A whole lot in the other buildings all around us as well.” She stopped and stood still, puzzled, for a moment, “They know we’re out here and curious how we can do it. I sense fear from some of them.”
“Okay, welcome to my world, Grits! I’ve been doing enough scavenging that I think the fear and apprehension are like they look at us as alphas or higher in the pecking order. Tthey usually are either very friendly or scared. Ready to go in?”
Gloria gave a last look around the outside from her spot by the door. A slight grimace set on her face. The entire glass door was pockmarked and spider webbed from bullets, yet there were no holes in the glass. Pulling hard, she could feel the door had become misaligned and she had to put effort into opening it. The door sliding across the floor mad a loud screech, announcing their arrival for any infected that didn’t already know they had entered. “Well, it doesn’t appear anyone in here’s going to pull any triggers on us.” Gloria announced as she holstered her 9mm, then slipped, almost falling into a pile of waste. “Really? I said, really! These are the last decent pair of tennies I own, and I step in this crap!”
“Chill Grits, you’re scaring the locals. When we get done here we can go shoe shopping if you want just take it down a notch.” Caleb asked nervously,” sensing the infected were getting angered, not by the words, but by her tone.
Gloria looked back at Caleb, he seemed like he was frozen in place, his M4 in both his hands as only his head moved, slowly scanning the darkened store. A lone shriek came from the back of the store, and then another. As the number of voices increased, so did the volume. Gloria felt the hair on her arms and the back of her neck start to tingle. Can I make it back to the door if they charge me? She wondered, then Caleb once again surprised her.
“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright. ‘Round yon virgin, mother and child…” Infected stood transfixed as Caleb sang. He continued to sing, “Oh Gloria, get your ass out of the store or I’ll leave you behind.” He was already slowly walking backwards. Gloria slowly followed him, until he stood at the door still crooning, the infected replying with their own soft cooing noise. She got out the door as he continued to sing. He then elected to go back into the store, heading for the storerooms by the shooting ranges. She was at first angered by the betrayal, then sensed the infected were no longer angry, but instead lulled by his singing. She cleared her throat and waited for the right moment. Caleb finished and ignored his audience as he loaded a cart with cases of every type of ammo he could find.
Gloria went back in through the open door and softly began to sing The Sounds of Silence as a soft mournful dirge. The singing stopped him in his tracks as he listened in pleasant surprise. She continued past him and opened the door at the opposite side of the room, filling the room with brilliant sunlight. Infected shrieked as they retreated further away from the pair as she finished her song.
“There’s a loading dock on this side of the building. I’m going to go get my truck and back it up over here. Don’t make any extra friends while I’m gone.” He heard Gloria laughing as she went for the truck. He let loose a small laugh of his own as he had noticed some infected women that he’d thought must have been attractive before being infected.
The sunlight felt like it went right through his sunglasses as the beginning of a headache slowly and softly started as he dumped the cases of ammo out on the loading dock. He stopped to strip down to his undershirt, carefully leaving his M4 propped against the wall along with his shirt and web gear. I’m not in Colorado, or Wyoming anymore that’s for sure. Be nice to just lie down, catch a few rays and kill a case of beer. I doubt Grits would be good company though, he thought while he watched the pickup backing towards him from the street, crunching gravel on the broken asphalt lot. She can load this while I explore a little more, he looked at his M4 and gear, then felt for the telescoping baton in his back pocket. I got everything I need.
Gloria looked at the ammo dumped on the loading dock, noticing much of it seemed to be a waste of effort. What the hell does that boy think we’re going to do with .22 ammo? Next she saw wooden cases in a language that looked first like it might be Russian, she could only read the words “Cal .30”. Next were the familiar green military metal ammo cans stenciled in yellow denoting their contents, mainly 5.56 and 7.62, along with Cal .30 and Cal .50. Additional foreign boxes seemed to be military, but ne
xt to unreadable except for the numbers and the orange diamond labels with 1.4 in their center. Through the door she could hear Caleb whistling as he worked. She was puzzled why it upset her as she made her way back in, annoyed that his weapons were just sitting outside the door.
Caleb sat in the huge weapons safe, a pile of small white boxes in front of him. A huge grin was plastered onto his face. He heard Gloria approaching and his smile got even bigger. “We hit the jackpot here. When the shit hit the fan they never had a chance to close the safe. There must be forty .22s here, each with a silencer. That will be a game changer for those who have to go into stores to find food and supplies. I hope we can find the subsonic ammo for them, or the silencers won’t last very long.”
“What’s with the other crap you piled outside? I’m sure you have a plan for the .22 ammo out there, right?” Gloria felt like she was being a bitch but couldn’t stop herself.
“That .22 ammo, when it’s delivered, will be meat on the plate for lots of folks. There’s not much meat left on a squirrel if you shoot him with a thirty-aught-six. Ammunition will be worth its weight in anything you want to trade it for, so when you train people to shoot, .22 is a lot less painful to see used up. The other strange and exotic ammunition is for SKSs, AKs, M1s, and a few others I know the farmers back home have and will need. Most people I know don’t have a lot of ammunition stored in their homes unless it’s the fall and they got a good deal on it for the run up before hunting season. My dad used to give me a brick of .22 ammo on Christmas half as a joke, knowing I’d go hunting with it, even though it felt too cold, and then try to ration it until the next Christmas when I’d get more. Nothing out on that loading dock will go to waste, Grits. Now unless you just want to bust my balls, why don’t you transfer the ammo to your truck. Leave anything that’s too heavy and I’ll move that for you on my next trip out.” Gloria looked at him for a moment, her jaw clenched shut. If she hadn’t been wearing sunglasses, Caleb would have fallen over dead from the look she was giving him. He heard her swear and then kick something, followed by what sounded like boxes sliding across the floor, on her way out. The infected were all quietly hiding wherever they could, sensing her rage. They mainly had gathered at the end of the firing range and sat huddled together quietly.
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