“Frankly, those are the only two reasons I haven’t ripped off his arms and beat him to death yet,” Xander replied.
Diane sighed.
Changing the subject, Xander asked “I forgot to ask, where are you guys working?”
“No, you just forgot. I told you earlier that I got posted to the school as a teacher,” Diane said. “Donald was posted as a bartender in the Sergeant’s and Warrant’s Mess, but he immediately applied for a medical exemption. He’ll find out in a couple days whether or not it was successful. Until then, he plans on doing exactly what he’s doing right now – nothing.”
It was Xander’s turn to sigh.
“Here we go,” Diane said as they came up to the Refugee Services tent. Xander held the flap open for Diane and followed her in. There were three tables, each with a uniformed member of the Canadian Forces at them. Diane and Xander walked to the one labelled ‘Reception’ and put her name down on a list, then her and Xander sat down.
For about fifteen minutes, they chatted quietly while they waited for their turn.
“Neale, Diane?” Said a soldier a one of the tables.
“Our turn,” Diane said as she led Xander over.
They sat down in the proffered chairs and the soldier said, “Hi, I’m Lieutenant Harper, how may I help you?”
Diane said, “Hi, I’d like to request a transfer for my brother here. He was put in a tent way on the other side of the camp.”
“Sure, let’s take a look. Do you have some ID?”
Diane and Xander pulled out their driver’s licenses. Unlike most of the refugees on the base, they had come here with some possessions and actually had some pre-disaster identification.
Chapter 9
October 30th
Lieutenant Koch surveyed the landscape on the monitor. Everywhere along the perimeter, thousands of infected pressed into the fence, and the fence flexed and bowed. Troops were firing into the crowd, killing dozens every minute, but it didn’t seem to make any difference as the numbers of infected seemed limitless. Engineers at the refinery were rushing to shut down as much of the facility as quickly and safely as possible, but it take at least another hour to complete. That was time they just didn’t have.
When he and his platoon had initially come to the refinery five weeks ago, his task had been daunting – secure almost the four kilometres of fence surrounding the facility with an under strength platoon of less than thirty troops. Intelligence suggested that the largest threat to the facility would be from Sherwood Park to the east, a suburb of approximately 70,000 people, although refugees streaming out of Edmonton along 101 Avenue and Anthony Henday Drive would also be potential threats.
While the base had a sophisticated security system of sensors, cameras and barbed wire topped fences – all upgraded after 9/11 – it also had several large entrances that also needed to be blocked. This was accomplished by stationing several tanker trucks filled with water behind the locked gates. A section of engineers had arrived shortly after his unit and constructed earthen berms along the inside of the fence, filling in small gaps along it that might have allowed infected to crawl underneath it. The metre tall berms also strengthened the chain link fence to a point that the infected wouldn’t be able to knock it down as they had in so many quarantine zones. He had positioned the pair of Coyote LAVs at his disposal in the northeast and southeast corners of the facility, where their advanced sensor suites would be most useful in detecting possible threats. His two Bison APCs were deployed near the terminal building facing eastwards to provide extra strength along the most serious threat axis. Two sections of soldiers provided rotating patrols of the perimeter, while the other two sections rested. It was a grueling 12 hour on/off schedule, but his troops had handled it expertly.
Lieutenant Koch had allowed refinery staff to bring their families inside the facility just before he locked it down, which meant there were had been nearly two hundred people under his care. Many families had emptied their pantries and fridges and brought food, so that wasn’t an issue. The biggest problem was finding space for everyone – space to sleep, eat and relax – all of which was in limited supply because the facility was an industrial one with little thought given to personal amenities. The staff had put their heads together and figured out a way to cram everyone in, but disagreements still happened all the time.
Since then, his troops had spent their time eliminating threats to the facility while the staff had continued working to supply the region with fuel. That plan had lasted almost two weeks, with tanker trucks coming and going on daily fuel runs. Most trucks headed to the base to keep the troops there supplied, but occasional stops at gas stations in safe areas also occurred, albeit under heavy police guard.
Then all of a sudden, the world went to shit and that stopped too, leaving a couple dozen tanker trucks and their drivers stranded inside the facility. He had been authorized to use lethal force to protect the facility and he had used it as needed. Initially, knocking down infected stragglers had been easy – his troops used the sensor suites in the Coyotes to take them out at long range. However, as the numbers of infected grew, he had been forced to station troops 24/7 along the perimeter to deal with dozens of even hundreds of infected at a time. Now, piles of corpses and heaps of shredded flesh littered the highway and fields east of the facility.
The radio crackled and Master Corporal Carney said, “The fence is coming down in Delta sector and we’re pulling back, over!”
“”Roger, fall back to Checkpoint Charlie and hold. The rest of us are right behind you, out,” Lieutenant Koch replied.
Lieutenant Koch turned to the engineers working feverishly behind him, “Okay, everybody time’s up. We’re leaving in thirty seconds!”
“Alright, you heard him, I’m initiating an emergency shutdown. Let’s hope nothing breaks!” George Garber, shift supervisor at the plant said. He ran to a nearby console and hit a sequence of keys, ending with a large red one covered by a plastic guard.
Suddenly, there was a series of thunks and the sound of metal grinding, then all the indicators shut off and went to zero.
An engineer looked at Garber and shook his head, “That didn’t sound very good.”
“No shit, let’s go,” Garber replied.
Most of the staff – and all of their dependents – had already been evacuated a few days ago. The skeleton crew grabbed their go bags and raced down the corridor and out to a convoy of running vehicles waiting outside.
Master Corporal Carney’s section were firing into the sea of infected as they slowly fell back to the convoy. Troops stationed on top of the vehicles added their firepower to stem the tide of infected following them. Lieutenant Koch was the last person out of the building, and vaulting onto an APC, shouted, “Master Corporal, let’s get going!”
Master Corporal Carney’s section turned and ran across the parking lot as the convoy began to move.
Lieutenant Koch surveyed the refinery from the top of the Coyote as the convoy fled. He had failed in his mission to hold the facility. Still, he hadn’t lost a man under his command and the facility was probably still functional and had thousands of gallons of unrefined oil in its storage tanks. When, no if, they ever came back, it would provide a vital piece of infrastructure in the rebuilding process.
--------
It had taken an hour to complete his transfer to Diane’s tent, by which time it was almost 5 p.m. so they collected Jared and Donald and they all went to their assigned mess for supper. Xander stopped by Evelyn’s tent to see if she wanted to join them, but she was nowhere to be found.
Supper wasn’t anything inspiring, just some chicken nuggets, French fries and carrot sticks, washed down with apple juice. It certainly didn’t seem worth the ten bucks they charged him for it. However, while he ate, the tone in the mess was upbeat, with people marveling at the food.
“I can’t believe how delicious these chicken nuggets are!” Someone said at a nearby table.
“I know, and
real apple juice – what a change from that powdered swill they always give us!” His table mate replied.
Xander leaned over to Diane, “What’s the big deal about chicken nuggets?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
An older woman sitting across from Xander said, “Usually we get a piece of flatbread, some sort of mystery meat with really salty gravy and Tang. If there is fruit or vegetables, they are canned and boiled into mush and completely tasteless. This is a feast by comparison. For breakfast, they made pancakes, and yesterday, we had pizza. Pancakes and pizza! Can you believe it?”
Xander was slightly surprised by that, but wisely didn’t say a word about how well they had eaten at the Costco.
“To tell you the truth, when we first got here, we ate pretty good. But then as more and more people starting arriving, the quality began to go downhill…guess there isn’t enough food to feed us all like kings and queens,” the woman said.
After supper, they walked back to the tent, with Xander taking a detour to Evelyn’s tent.
Still not here, Xander sighed, so he wandered back to his new digs and settled in, unpacking some of his stuff. Then, glancing at his watch, he figured what the hell, Why not go check out my new job.
As he stepped out into the cool evening air, he debated walking and driving there.
Probably better to drive, wouldn’t want to get lost after all, he mused as he looked around the base, most of which was dark with the fence line and guard towers being notable exceptions. From them, light stabbed out into the darkness, probing for infected trying to get through the defences.
They really ought to invest in some lights out here, Xander thought as he walked through the dark to his Pathfinder with just a wind-up flashlight to guide him. He drove east across the base until he got to the Depot building, which to his surprise was lit up like a Christmas tree.
Strange that I couldn’t see it from the camp, Xander thought.
It was surrounded by street lights that still worked and at least a dozen, maybe more, semi tractor-trailers. Another half dozen armoured vehicles sat nearby, engines rumbling and belching diesel, the troops onboard scanning the darkness for threats.
The Depot was behind another fence and as he approached the checkpoint, a turret swiveled in his direction.
The sign in front of him in big bold letters read, Approach slowly. Stop at the yellow line and wait for instructions. Guards are authorized to use deadly force!
Xander pulled up to the yellow line and waited. A pair of soldiers came out of the guard shack, one carrying a clipboard and the other carrying an assault rifle, pointed, but not aimed, in Xander’s general direction.
Xander rolled down the window just as the soldier got there, “How may I help you sir?” The soldier asked.
“I’m Xander Barnes and this is my duty station, I’m reporting for the seven o’clock shift. Here’s the ID I got at orientation,” Xander said.
The soldier scanned a list on his clipboard, “Your name isn’t on here, sir. Let me just double check it.”
The soldier walked back to the shack and Xander could see him talking into a phone. Time dragged on and on. All the while, the other soldier had his rifle pointed at Xander. As the soldier left the shack, the other soldier relaxed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.
“Admin hadn’t sent your name over yet, so you weren’t on the approved list,” the soldier said as he handed Xander’s ID back to him. “You can go on in and park over by the other cars. When you get to the door, ask for Bert Stanton. Have nice evening and welcome to the base.”
Xander nodded and followed his instruction, parking his Pathfinder in the appropriate location and headed inside.
“Hi, I’m Xander Barnes and I was told to report to Bert Stanton,” he said as he handed over his ID to another soldier standing inside the door.
“Thanks, have a seat, he’ll be out shortly,” the soldier replied.
A couple minutes later, a short, balding heavyset man walked into the reception area, “Xander, nice to meet ya, come on in!” He said jovially.
Xander stood up and Bert stuck out his hand and shook Xander’s vigorously, his rough calluses grating like sandpaper on Xander’s palm.
Bert led Xander through a door and past some offices and then into the warehouse.
“I’ll tell ya this, I’m glad you picked today to start, we got this goddamned convoy in tonight and two guys didn’t show up, so everyone’s sweating bullets we won’t get it taken care of in time,” Bert said as they walked.
“Where did all those trucks come from?” Xander asked.
“There’s a big Army depot south of Saskatoon that’s still functioning and it sends big shipments like this whenever it can, but it’s a bitch to get everything stored before daylight,” Bert said. “It’s always a little nerve wracking because all these big trucks attract the infected and every once and a while they hit the fence outside. And night attacks are the worst, because nobody can see shit. The base got attacked a week and a half ago and some infected actually made through the perimeter, but got wiped out before they could get to us. The sooner we can these trucks unloaded and on their way, the safer it is for everyone.”
“Admin hasn’t sent over your info yet. Do you have much experience working in a warehouse?” Bert asked as he sat down in his chair, the springs groaning under his weight.
“Yeah, I worked for the last six years at Horne & Campbell. I mostly drove fork on the dock, doing shipping and receiving, but I can drive a powerjack to and pick if you need me to. But I haven’t done that in a couple years, so I’m kinda rusty at it.”
“Thank God! The last couple guys they sent over couldn’t find their ass with their hands. I’ve spent the last couple weeks training them to just do the bare minimum,” Bert sighed audibly. “Okay, let’s get you a forklift and you can help unload these trucks.”
Bert whistled sharply and a worker on the dock turned. Bert waved him over. The worker guided the forklift to where they were standing and stopped it a few feet away, then dismounted.
“Xander, Stan. Stan, Xander. Stan’ll show you what to do today, but I’m guessing you’ll have no problem fitting in,” Bert said to Xander. “Stan, he says he worked on a dock for years, so run him through the paces, then have him takeover unloading for you and you work on the receiving. And hustle, we’ve got a shit ton of work to do tonight with Larry and Barry off,” Bert said, while Stan nodded.
Stan was in his twenties and stood at nearly six feet tall. He had that good old farm boy look, fit looking with a square jaw, blue eyes and close cropped hair.
“Have a good one, Xander,” Bert said as he walked away.
Stan quickly explained how things worked at the Depot and it was almost identical to what Xander was used to. Stan watched Xander unload a couple pallets and place them in the appropriate spot, then certified him as good to go and left him to his own devices.
Xander toiled away for a couple hours until Stan came by.
“Break time,” Stan told him.
They walked across the warehouse to a room with a long table and a dozen or so chairs. At one end of the table was tray of sandwiches. Xander also detected the aroma of strong coffee wafting through the air. On a table nearby, a veritable mountain of food sat, everything from fresh donuts and cinnamon buns to power bars and chips. It was a feast the likes of which he hadn’t seen since he’d been at Costco.
Bert was already sitting there, chatting to another worker Xander hadn’t met yet and turned as Xander and Stan walked in, “So how’s the new guy doing, Stan?”
“A fuck of a lot better than Larry or Barry,” Stan sighed. “I spend more time fixing their mistakes than they do work!”
“Well, we gotta make do with what we got,” Bert replied. “how you doing?”
“No different than anywhere else I worked. Of course, the pay sucks, but at least I get to work with a male model,” Xander said as pointed at Stan.
Bert and Stan laughed. St
ill chuckling, Bert said, “Yeah, you’re gonna fit in just fine ‘round here. Xander, this is Harry, he works in the freezer and cooler, although we got a lot less stuff in there than we used to.”
“Wait a minute,” Xander said. “There’s a Harry, Larry and a Barry here? No offense, but what the fuck?”
“Yeah, we don’t know what the hell is going on either. We’re guessing some asshole in HR is laughing his ass off at this shit, but it ain’t fucking funny. Whatever you do, don’t lump Harry in with those other two. Harry’s been working here for more than a decade know, so he’s got his shit together.”
The rest of his shift blurred into working feverishly interspersed with quick fifteen minute breaks. Before he knew it, his shift was over, just as Xander wheeled the forklift across the bay and continued unloaded the last pallet from the last tractor trailer.
He ran the forklift back to the charging station and plugged it in, then walked over to Bert’s office.
“Hey, you’re still here, that’s a good sign! Planning on coming back tonight?” Bert asked.
“Well, it’s not like I’ve got anything else better to do. I was thinking though, one of the guys who came here with me used to drive a fork at Costco, he’d probably be of more use than Larry or Barry from the sounds of things. The powers that be assigned him to a kitchen, peeling potatoes or some shit like that. Is there any way to get him over here?”
“I can put in a request, but there are no guarantees. Is he any good?”
“I haven’t worked with him, but I did see him drive the fork a bunch of times at Costco. If nothing else, you won’t have to start from scratch like you do other guys.”
“Can’t hurt I guess. What’s his name?” Bert said.
“Gary!” Xander laughed and Bert rolled his eyes.
“Are you being a smartass?”
Xander smiled as he left.
Chapter 10
Zombie Night In Canada (Book 2): 2nd Period Page 9