Zombie Night In Canada (Book 2): 2nd Period

by Friesen, Jamie

  The courier nodded and both he and the police officer left.

  “Well, isn’t that a kick in the fucking head,” Xander mumbled.

  “Shit, I’m sorry Xander. Why don’t you get out of here early?” Stan told him.

  “Thanks Stan,” Xander said, then sighed deeply. “Guess I’ll go clean out my locker.”

  Chapter 13

  November 2nd

  The alarm on Dan’s phone warbled, waking him up. Not that it took all that much to wake him up these days, the constant threat of death and dismemberment had put an end to deep sleep.

  He dragged himself out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He thought momentarily about wearing his police uniform, but decided not to.

  Best probably not to poke a sleeping bear. He thought. Besides, it had taken a while to earn the trust of the unit he had previously been assigned to and you don’t want to repeat that if you don’t have to.

  Stumbling to the bathroom, he looked at his appearance.

  Good enough, he thought splashing some water on his face. He had shaved and showered before going to bed to allow him to sleep in as long as possible.

  He shambled down to the mess and wolfed down a quick breakfast, filled his mug with coffee and then went out to his car. When he opened the door, the brisk fall air hit him like a lightning bolt and completely and erased any vestiges of sleep. He popped the trunk and made sure all of his police-issue equipment was there then hopped in and drove over to the 1 Battalion PPCLI building where the training assignment was.

  Located on the far northern section of the base, the area looked as pristine as it had before the end of the world. Here, there were no guard towers, bunkers, or anything else to suggest anything had changed.

  If only, Dan thought and winced at everyone he had lost.

  He took him a moment to compose himself, then he stepped out of the car, grabbing his riot shield and utility belt, complete with baton, handcuffs, zip ties and other police gear. His pistol and spare magazines were locked in a lockbox under the tire well. He dug those out and put them on his belt. Shield in hand, he walked up to the main entrance of the building, which was massive. On the outside, it looked like a huge warehouse, and in some ways it was. Dan knew that it provided space for a drill hall, an armoury, service bays big enough to repair their armoured vehicles, administrative offices and pretty much everything else the battalion needed to operate.

  “Sergeant Dan Simpson reporting for duty.” Dan said to a private, wearing a nametag that read Hopper, at the reception desk.

  “Good morning Sergeant. Give me a minute and I’ll let them know you’re here,” Private Hopper said. “You can take a seat over there, if you want.”

  “No thanks, I’ll stand.”

  “Suit yourself.” Private Hopper picked up the phone and said, “Sergeant Simpson is here sir.”

  Dan waited a minute or two until an NCO came out.

  Dan snapped to attention a little awkwardly with his shield in his left hand, “Sergeant Simpson reporting for duty!”

  The NCO replied, “Morning Sergeant, I’m Warrant Officer Raroger. First things first, do you want to stow anything in a locker?”

  “All I have are the clothes on my back and the weapons in hand, Warrant Officer,” Dan replied.

  Raroger was a bear of a man, standing over two metres tall and probably weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds. His close-cropped hair was turning grey at his temples, and his eyes were bloodshot enough to reveal he wore contacts.

  “Look, I don’t know you or anything about you or your leadership style, but you got high marks from Sergeant Cooper, and that counts high in my book, but here’s a tip anyways. You won’t need to yell at these guys. I only do it to maintain the aura of command and strike some fear into them, but they know me and need to be a little scared of me. But these guys are all professionals and they’ll give you 110%, so just give them some tips and guidance on how best to fight the infected and everything will go well. We need them ready to teach the recruits next week and look like experts. Got it?”

  Simpson nodded.

  “Good, let’s meet the troops.”

  Shortly, an even dozen soldiers were in front of him. All were wearing chain mail that covered them from their neck to their ankles. On top of all that, hockey equipment covered most of the rest of their bodies. Each carried a small shield and a crude mace.

  Dan looked puzzled.

  “This is the new gear all recruits will be issued during their training and prior to deployment outside the wire. Despite the protection this equipment brings, we want someone with firsthand experience showing them how to bash heads,” Warrant Officer Raroger explained.

  “Thanks Warrant Officer. Okay, how about we start by introducing ourselves. I’m Sergeant Dan Simpson, and I’m with the Loyal Eddies as well as a former Edmonton Police Officer. I grew up here in Edmonton. Master Corporal?”

  “I’m Master Corporal Girardi and I’ve been assigned as an instructor to the training battalion and will be the senior NCO for Second Platoon, Second Company. My entire career has been with the Princess Pats and I’m from London, Ontario.”

  As they introduced themselves, Dan realized that all the platoon leaders were Corporals and Master Corporals, while the section leaders were Privates. Dan chalked it up to losses due to the unending combat over the past two months.

  Dan led them through a series of calisthenics, followed by some light stretching, which turned out to be difficult for those in armour.

  Have stretching after training from now on, Dan filed away in his memory.

  Picking up his shield and riot baton, he said, “Okay, does anyone have any idea how to use these things in combat?”

  Silence.

  “Have any of you been trained on any drill on how to march with this equipment? How to advance on the enemy? On how to fall back? Or anything else for that matter?”

  “Some egghead at HQ has worked that most of that up, Sergeant. This weekend we just need you to pass along your close combat tactics,” Warrant Officer Raroger said.

  “Thank you, Warrant. I wanted to know if any of you of the troops had had any riot training or anything like it. Okay then, let’s get to it.”

  During the morning, Dan led them through drill after drill, hour after hour, showing them how to use the shield and mace at the same time to deal with infected, how to use the shield as a weapon to shove enemies away from them, how to move while carrying a shield and mace, and all the other basic tactics they would need to pass on to the recruits next week. Lunch was served out of hay boxes in the drill hall, and everyone ate in near silence.

  After lunch, they went to a classroom and discussed the tactics they had been taught in the morning. Overall, most of the tactics Dan had taught them had worked well enough, but at the same times, they let Dan know about the strengths and limitations of their body armour. Some of the tactics Dan tried to teach simply didn’t work as effectively as it should have because the armour restricted their movement too much. After more than an hour of serious reflection and study, they went back to the drill hall and started over. By the end of the day, everyone, Dan included, were sore pretty much all over.

  “This last trick was something my partner and I figured out early on and used quite often,” Dan said. “That tactic is you don’t always have to bash their heads in.”

  Everyone had a puzzled look on their face, even Warrant Officer Raroger.

  “This trick works because of simple body mechanics. If you can’t hit one on the head, you can hit or kick it in the knee. The ligament there needs only a few pounds of pressure to snap, and any infected person will go down instantly,” Dan said, then emphasized, “Then when they are on the ground, then you bash their heads in or run away. We called it the Bash and Dash.”

  Eyes lit up as the soldiers grasped the concept.

  “That’s fucking brilliant,” Warrant Officer Raroger muttered loudly.

  “Now, while you no doubt are excited to
try this, we don’t want to add you to the casualty list, so we’ll rig something up for tomorrow and try it then. Warrant Officer Raroger?” Dan said. “Consider it a live-fire exercise for the lack of a better term.”

  “Attention!” Warrant Officer Raroger shouted.

  Everyone snapped to attention.

  “Dismissed!”

  After they were gone, “Sergeant, let’s go chat,” Warrant Officer Raroger said, turning.

  --------

  Xander drove over to the TRQ and found Evelyn just as she was leaving her tent for work.

  “Sweetie!” She squealed. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work for another half hour?”

  “Actually, I have the next couple days off because of this,” Xander said as nonchalantly as possible, handing over the draft letter.

  Evelyn opened it up and read it. “Oh no,” she muttered. “I don’t like this at all, baby.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m going to apply for an exemption. It’ll be okay, I promise. Can I drive you to work?”

  “Oh, how sweet, of course you can.”

  They walked over to the Pathfinder and Xander held the door open for Evelyn, then closed it after she got in.

  They drove in total silence.

  When they pulled up to the HQ building, Xander said, “Hey look at the bright side, I’ve got the next two days off – now we can use those two bookings in the conjugal visit trailer!”

  Evelyn hit him playfully and said huskily, “It’s a deal, you dirty-minded man.”

  Xander helped her out, then kissed her lightly on the lips and watched her walk up the steps and inside.

  Now what the fuck do I do by myself all day long? Xander thought. There must be some trouble I can get into.

  He drove back to the TRQ and walked to the Refugee Services tent.

  “Is there any chance of an exemption, Lieutenant Harper?”

  “Actually, in the Canadian Armed Forces, it’s pronounced Left-tenant. No, there isn’t any chance of an exemption. Based on manpower levels, we need every able-bodied man possible,” Lieutenant Harper replied.

  Xander sighed.

  He thought about it and decided to go to the gym and do a light workout, then went for a jog.

  By noon, his stomach was growling, so he coughed up $10 for some hard, day old bread and some sort of mystery meat, which was off-colour and smelled slightly funky.

  Better than nothing, Xander thought as he swallowed.

  He found Jared and the two of them threw a football back and forth, despite the crisp November air.

  “Jared, go long!” Xander shouted as he threw the ball as hard as he could.

  Jared caught it, whooping, “Touchdown Jared! The Eskimos win the Grey Cup!”

  Xander winced slightly – there wasn’t going to be any championship football game played anywhere for a long fucking time, if ever.

  He and Jared goofed off all afternoon ending up at the Can-Ex, where Xander bought Jared a couple toys and treats, consuming all but his last twenty dollars.

  When he took Jared back to his tent, Diane was already there, and they all went to supper together. Diane, seeing the meager contents of Xander’s wallet, offered to pay for his supper, at which Donald shot Diane a dirty look.

  They ate in relative silence and after thanking Diane profusely, Xander went off to find Evelyn.

  Chapter 14

  November 4th

  Dan had spent the rest of the day training the misfits as Warrant Officer Raroger had called them. In reality, they were a proud, dedicated bunch who were shaping up into fine instructors. Once again, they sat in the Raroger’s office, drinking Scotch.

  “Sergeant, thanks for teaching us an entirely new form of combat. I only wish we’d had more time to hone our skills before the recruits showed up tomorrow,” Warrant Officer Raroger said.

  “Ours is but to do or die,” Dan replied.

  “True enough, Sergeant. True enough.”

  “Am I free to get back to Battalion then, Warrant?” Dan asked.

  “Actually, no. We got your orders this afternoon, and you and the rest of the Loyal Eddies are going back to boot camp too,” Warrant Officer Raroger replied.

  Dan nearly choked on his Scotch, “Really Warrant? I’ve been in the Reserves for almost a decade.”

  “Don’t worry, none of you are going through the meat grinder like the newbies we got coming tomorrow. No, that shitshow is for the great unwashed masses of morons we’re certain to get and have to somehow turn into soldiers in two fucking weeks,” Warrant Officer Raroger grunted.

  “No, you my friend, you are going to train the rest of the Eddies in the same tactics you taught my boys. If I was a betting man, I’d say you Eddies will fill the command roles after the recruits have been trained and they’re unleashed on the infected.”

  Dan sat there, not knowing what to say.

  “Yeah, I know. That unit could take a lot of casualties, but that’s why it’s so important that the Eddies learn this new way of combat and learn it fucking fast.”

  “Look on the bright side. The Eddies are going to pick this shit up fast and learn it well, just like my boys did. They won’t be anything like the fucking numbskulls we’ve got coming here. Did you know I swung by the Depot today and checked some of them out? I almost wept for fucking humanity watching some of those shit-for-brains get ready for induction. If that is the best we can muster, we might be screwed. I can tell you you’ve got it fucking easy compared to Girardi and the others!”

  Dan smiled grimly as Raroger poured him another shot.

  --------

  “Here’s your PT gear,” a soldier had said unceremoniously when he thrust a small bag full of gym clothes at Xander.

  “PT?” Xander questioned.

  “Physical training. You’ll need it when you’re jogging, weight training and what not,” came the terse reply.

  “Uh, okay. Is there anything else for me to pick up?”

  “Nope, you’ll get that tomorrow with your unit. Now piss off and let me help the next person in fucking line!”

  Someone behind Xander laughed as he scooped up the bag and sheepishly retreated outside. When he got to the Pathfinder, he dumped the contents out into the backseat - inside was a t-shirt, hoodie, sweat pants and a pair of running shoes – all in snot green.

  Where the fuck is that cool camo pattern all the Army guys on the base wear? He thought.

  Then he had reported to another building and gotten a haircut and a shave, which he sorely needed. After more than six weeks of hiding in his condo and at the Costco, his hair, both on his head and face was long and unruly. Like most men on the base, he had a beard and moustache, although his beard was shorter than most because he had had access to razors and shaving cream in Costco.

  “That looks much better son, it was either a haircut or time to get you a guitar,” the crusty old barber chortled as Xander left after his haircut.

  “Next!’ Xander heard as the door closed behind him. While he enjoyed the hot shave and how clean his face felt, he was less enthused by the haircut, which was a brush cut half an inch tall. Stepping outside afterwards, the brisk fall air had been a bit of a shock on his scalp and now uncovered ears.

  Still, as much as the afternoon sucked, it had been better than the morning.

  That had been utterly exhausting, with Diane and Jared and Evelyn voicing their fears that he ‘was going to die’ and similar doomsday bullshit like that. At first it didn’t bother him all that much, but they kept it up, and it eventually started to piss him off. The final nail in the coffin, however, had been Donald, sitting the corner and grinning like the Cheshire cat at Xander’s predicament.

  That set Xander off and he exploded on everyone, ending with a megaton of bile unloaded on Donald. Then Xander stormed off and disappeared.

  He thought about sulking, but he had instead gone to pick up his stuff from the Stores building, and then sat in the SUV listening to music for a while, so he coul
d be alone with his thoughts. When half an hour of sulking by himself didn’t help, he drove back and walked to his tent, somewhat sheepishly. He apologized to everyone, except Donald, who was nowhere to be found.

  Just as well, there’s no way I’m about to apologize to that asshole, Xander thought to himself.

  Jared rubbed his nearly bald head, “That feels weird, Uncle Xander!”

  Evelyn and Diane were both excited that he had come back, but when prodded for his thoughts on the draft, Xander simply growled, “Let’s talk about something else – who’s up for a movie?”

  Jared shouted an emphatic yes and everyone but Donald trudged off to the converted movie theatre and watched Anchorman II and laughed themselves silly for a couple hours, even though it was an older movie.

  On their way back to the tent, Xander said good night to Diane and Jared at the tent, during which Jared hugged Xander harder than he ever had before.

  “You have to promise me you’ll be okay, Uncle Xander,” Jared said with tears in his eyes.

  “I’ll be fine kiddo, don’t worry. The first month or two, I’ll be on the base training, and by the time that’s finished, it’ll be winter and it’ll be easy to bash heads,” Xander said. “Remember when we had that snowstorm at the Costco? It’ll be just like that.”

  Jared didn’t look convinced.

  “Tell you what. You can write me anytime you want to – just drop it off at the Refugee Services tent and they’ll forward it along. And I promise that I’ll write back to you every single time. Okay?”

  In truth, Xander wasn’t worried about surviving the next couple months, it was surviving the next year. In the Army or out, things looked increasingly bleak. Civilization had come crashing down and if they were desperate enough to draft people again, it probably wasn’t getting any better.

  “Really, Uncle? You promise?”

  “Of course, now get a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you soon,” Xander said. “G’night Diane.”