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

by Friesen, Jamie

  Goddamn Liberals, he thought to himself.

  He had been extremely vocal about to the local press and had joined the National Firearms Association – Canada’s analogue to the NRA – and began donating like mad to both that organization and to any federal party that wanted to abolish it. When the federal Conservatives had struck it down, he was overjoyed.

  He was also a bit a conspiracy theorist and for years had believed that 9/11 had been an inside job by the US government to allow them to strip civil liberties and enact laws like the Patriot Act. Even after he stopped listening to Alex Jones’ radio show, he still worried about ZOG, SHTF and all sorts of other right wing acronyms.

  As such, he had been prepared for the world to end because of Y2K. Then again during the SARS outbreak a couple years later and again during the much hyped Avian Flu reared its head after that. But when the subprime fiasco had hit in 2009 and global markets crashed, he was sure that this was the financial collapse that the survivalists around the world had been warning about for years. Even after the Mayan Apocalypse had fizzled in 2012, he was still a believer that the end of the world as we know it was still just a hiccup away. Each time, instead of deterring him, each near miss made him stockpile more food, more guns and more everything to ensure his family would survive whatever happened. He had embraced the prepper lifestyle lock, stock and barrel. Of course, when he had gotten into it, it had still been called survivalist lifestyle…it seemed like nothing was safe from political correctness these days.

  When the world finally did end, he was more than ready. And while most of his ‘prep’ was located at his remote retreat, he had a considerable stash of survival goods at both his home and his office. When he had received the order to close his office from government officials, he had reluctantly done so, but not before offering safe haven to all of his employees.

  James Parker wanted to be a king in the new world order and he knew that he would need subjects to ensure that. After all, it was only a few letters to change employer into Emperor.

  That safe haven was the Vulcan Construction compound. When he had started, he originally had installed a chain link fence like most companies, but when he could afford it, he built a ten foot high concrete wall around the office and yard to showcase his firm’s construction prowess. And because the construction compound was located outside the city’s water and sewage lines when he started, he had originally installed a septic tank and drilled a well. Over the years, had added solar panels and a small windmill on the roof of the office building, and installed a small water recycling system to provide water for his operations. It wasn’t enough to power the entire operation, but it certainly helped his small company cut back on water and power bills. All of this had earned Vulcan Construction a number of green awards from hippie NGOs that loved that kind of crap. He didn’t give a good goddamn about the awards or the agenda the hippies were pushing, but the awards had helped him earn contracts that he might not otherwise have gotten because of his company’s green image. No, the real reason he had installed them was to cut back on energy costs and make his plant as self-sufficient as possible. He may not have been able to live off the grid as so many other preppers did, but he was pretty damned close in his opinion.

  Now, those power sources and his well had turned his plant into a veritable oasis and the concrete wall and his stockpile of weapons made it a fortress.

  He and the men with him had gone on several supply runs and scavenged all sorts of things, including food, weapons, and fuel, although on several occasions, he had been forced to retreat back to the compound when the numbers of zombies got too large. He had even found a small number of refugees that he had accepted and planned to use as his workforce in the long term. Everything was on track for him to become the type of petty warlord seen so often in Mad Max movies or the Walking Dead.

  Then out of nowhere, his plan was shattered when the Army showed up. Out of the blue one early November morning, a convoy of trucks and APCs arrived at the cargo container storage facility across the road from Vulcan Construction. Semi-truck after semi-truck rolled into the container facility, loaded up a container and drove off, heading north. It wasn’t long before an eagle eyed soldier spotted activity inside the Pyramid compound. An APC fired up its engine, the diesel belching a cloud of black smoke, then the vehicle rolled towards the compound, stopping just short of the main gate.

  “Hello inside,” a smiling soldier in the turret shouted. “Permission to enter?”

  “Hey, sure thing,” Parker answered and turned to an assistant, “Open the main gate!”

  The gate creaked open and the APC rolled inside, and once inside, the gate clanged shut.

  The smile on the soldier manning the turret vanished. There was a thunk and the rear ramp on the APC opened and a section of troops disembarked.

  Parker walked over to meet them, extending his hand as he reached the group, “Welcome to Vulcan Construction. We’re kinda surprised to see you, we thought the army fell apart weeks ago, just like the police and the rest of society. ”

  “Nope, we’re holding on, though some days, it’s by the skin of our teeth,” the officer answered grimacing. “We’ve lost a lot of troops, but with the cooler weather, the infected aren’t as active as they were in the beginning.”

  “Sorry if we startled you by closing the gate. We don’t get too many zombies out here, but we don’t like taking unnecessary chances,” Parker said.

  “Fair enough precaution these days. I’m Lieutenant Carpenter and my unit is scouting the area for raw materials and resources to aid in the crisis. What did you guys do here?”

  “What didn’t we do here Lieutenant,” Parker said chuckling. “We mostly provided raw materials for construction sites, things like bricks, concrete, aggregate, rebar, that kind of stuff. We had started working on design a couple years ago, so we also had a small team of engineers to support that function. What are you guys doing out here?”

  “Right now, we’re scavenging those shipping containers so we can build walls with them. Other times, we check out warehouses for industrial supplies, grocery stores for food, even the occasional sporting goods store for weapons and protective devices.” Seeing faces peering out of some of the windows, Lieutenant Carpenter asked, “How many people are in here with you?”

  “We’ve got just under a hundred souls in here. Most of them are my employees and their families, but we’ve also found and rescued a little over dozen people who were trapped in their homes by those zombie bastards. We’ve converted the office space into bedrooms and the building has showers and a small kitchen, so we’re okay on that front. The most difficult part has been the sewage – we have to empty the septic tank every couple days with so many people living here twenty four hours a day.”

  “I’m going to need to call in about your group. Your group could provide a significant resource in the defence of the Capital Region.”

  “What are you hoping we’ll be able to help you with?”

  “Interestingly enough, some of the very things you mentioned. We’re from CFB Edmonton and while we’re pretty confident in its defences, HQ is looking to really fortify it before spring hits. Right now, the base the relying on trenches and chain link fences, but if we plan on surviving long term, we need something much stronger than that. I have a strong feeling that your concrete factory will be of particular interest.”

  The gears began to turn inside Parker’s head.

  “Well then son, this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship!” Parker cackled.

  Chapter 19

  November 9th

  “Drop your cocks and grab your socks!” Master Corporal Girardi yelled through a bullhorn at the recruits sleeping in the barracks.

  Xander got up, got dressed and raced out the door in under three minutes. He was the first recruit out there and looked surprised.

  Corporal Crozier came over to him, “Well that fast Barnes. How about you and I go check out your bunk?”

&
nbsp; Xander groaned inwardly. He had forgotten to make sure to stow his gear properly and now he was in for it.

  Corporal Crozier seemed to take delight in tearing apart his bunk and footlocker, sending his items flying to and fro.

  When he finished, he turned to Xander and calmly said, “The Army likes people who hustle, but it really hates people who fuck up. You fucked up big time Barnes, and by my calculation, you owe me 120 push-ups. Drop and get started!”

  Xander began doing push-ups, careful to count out loud and add ‘Corporal Crozier’ after each. By the end, his arms were on fire, his face beet red and his heart ready to explode. He did the last one but remained in the push-up position until Corporal Crozier told him to stand. Corporal Crozier made him wait an agonizing ten more seconds before he growled, “Alright, clean up this mess and get outside in two minutes!”

  Xander hurried to put everything back properly and raced outside as soon as humanly possible – but it wasn’t fast enough.

  “Nice to see you could finally join the rest of us recruit!” Master Corporal Girardi yelled. “Give me twenty five!”

  Xander dropped and agonizingly began pumping out more push-ups, his arms aching and his lungs burning as he gutted each one painfully out. He got to sixteen before he finally blacked out.

  Xander came to on the cold ground, face pressed into the gravel. He groaned and rolled onto his back.

  “Medic!” Someone called out.

  Xander heard footsteps coming in his direction, but had no problem blacking out again before they arrived.

  --------

  Xander woke up on a cot, groaning. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, and the air stank of disinfectant and other strange chemicals. He sat up and glanced around, realizing he was in a makeshift hospital. There were ten or twelve other cots, most of which were empty.

  “Welcome to 1 Field Ambulance,” a voice behind him said.

  He shifted and saw Corporal Yang standing there.

  “What happened?” Xander croaked.

  “What happened was you didn’t listen to me. You pushed yourself too far, too fast and passed out from exhaustion. Now shut up and let me check your vitals.”

  “Yes, Corporal,” Xander mumbled.

  She quickly checked his pulse, listened to his breathing, and then took a blood sample.

  “For the record, I didn’t push myself too hard – Corporal Crozier has it out for me and pushed me too hard,” Xander said as she put a band aid on his arm,

  “Whatever,” Corporal Yang replied. “I’m going to run this over to the lab, I’ll be back in a couple minutes. While you’re waiting, drink this, it’s full of electrolytes.”

  Xander nodded and began drinking it, “Tastes like Gatorade,” he said, not realizing she had left already.

  Jack may be a moron, but he’s right, she’s fucking hot, Xander thought.

  Corporal Yang came back about ten minutes later carrying a tray of food, “You were a little hypoglycemic, probably because you hadn’t had breakfast yet. Eat this, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  When she returned, she had Xander complete a series of stretches and extensions, all of which he could manage, but several of which caused excruciating pain.

  “Looks like you might have sprained your right pectoral muscle, maybe your shoulder too. You’re going to have to be on light duty for a few days, perhaps as long as a week, until it heals. You’ll also take one of these after every meal,” Corporal Yang said, handing over a pill bottle filled with Advil.

  “What is light duty?” Xander asked.

  “In your case, nothing that strains your chest or shoulder muscles. You can still jog, march and do drill, but combat training might be too much for you for a couple days. Same goes for weight training, although by your build, it doesn’t look like you need to do much in that area.”

  Xander blushed a little, “Okay.”

  “You really should address me as Corporal, you know?”

  “Sorry Corporal Yang,” Xander replied.

  “Smart ass. This better be the last time I have to tell you not to push so hard. If you keep pushing yourself, you’re going to wind up missing on this round of training and get re-assigned. The next batch of recruits is full of fatties and losers and you don’t want to be part of that group or you’ll get all the shit jobs.”

  “Wait a minute, how am I supposed to keep training if I can’t do any combat training?” Xander asked.

  “You’ll continue to use the training weapons until you’ve fully healed, then you’ll transition to regular kit and weapons. Don’t worry, both your platoon and section leader are well aware of your temporary physical limitations,” she replied. “Now stop talking and rest for a while. I’ve got other patients to check on.”

  “Yes Corporal,” he said as she turned to leave.

  Xander re-joined his section later that afternoon for a lecture on map reading, then some light drill, but missed weight training and weapons practice.

  --------

  “Corporal Crozier reporting as ordered, sir!” Corporal Crozier said as he snapped to attention and fired off a crisp salute.

  “At ease, Corporal,” Captain Koch replied. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “Not really sir.”

  Captain Koch sighed, “You’re here because today one of your recruits collapsed from exhaustion before they did morning PT. That is a serious cause of concern on my part. Our goal is to whip these kids into decent shape and train them to fight the monsters that lurk outside the fence. It isn’t to inflict misery on them until they fall apart. Recruit Barnes is one of the relatively few recruits on this base rated in excellent shape. And yet, somehow today, he wound up in the medic’s tent and missed the entire training schedule this morning. That sounds like a failure on our part, not his. Care to explain how that could happen, Corporal?”

  “Sir, after he fell in for PT, I did a quick check of his bunk and footlocker and found it to be substandard, and therefore issued punishment in the form of push-ups. He then took too long to re-muster for PT and was given extra push-ups by the platoon leader, sir.” Corporal Crozier replied.

  “How push-ups did he receive in total Corporal Crozier?”

  “I believe it was one hundred and forty-five, Sir.”

  “So he got one hundred and forty-five push-ups shortly after waking up AND before he’d had any breakfast? Is that normal, Corporal?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Is it standard practice to inspect recruits bunks before PT?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Who ordered you to deviate from the schedule that was already set-up?”

  “Nobody, sir. I made that decision on my own on the fly.”

  “And why did you make this decision on the fly?”

  Corporal Crozier hesitated, “I thought he was getting too cocky and needed to be brought into line.”

  Captain Koch shook his head and sighed again, “Well, I’ll give you credit Corporal. Most soldiers would have tried to pass the buck or bullshit me. The training schedule was carefully calculated to push recruits to the edge of the physical and mental limits without breaking them, especially given their physical condition, so don’t deviate from it again. I’m sure this was in your training package, but a large number of these recruits have been refugees on the base for weeks now, and are beginning to suffer from poor nutrition, a lack of cardiovascular exercise, and a variety of other health issues. They are marshmallows compared to the recruits we used to get, but we have to work with what we’ve got and we’ve got to do it properly, not ‘on the fly’, got it?”

  “Yes Sir!”

  “Now don’t take this discussion as meaning you have to treat Barnes, or any other recruit for that matter, with kid gloves. You are free to discipline the recruits as necessary within the training schedule and as discipline necessitates, but this doesn’t happen again. I don’t want to see another one of your recruits in the infirmary because they pissed you off – otherwise, there wil
l be hell to pay. We need the recruits trained and ready to deal with the infected in less than two weeks. If they aren’t, then you and your buddies will be going into the city to tackle the infected hand to hand. Is that clear?”

  “Yes Sir,” Corporal Crozier replied.

  “Then you’re dismissed!” Captain Koch said, returning to his paperwork.

  --------

  After dinner, the training company mustered for something new – pay parade. Everyone stood in crisp lines in the hall, while a handful of officers sat at tables in the front. Then, when their name was called, then they marched to the desk, received a wad of cash and signed a sheet stating they had been paid. With nearly a hundred recruits, it had taken the better part of an hour, then Master Corporal Girardi bellowed, “Dismissed!” and everyone went their separate ways.

  The section was standing around, gaping at how much money they had. Some had been paid more in a week as recruits than they had earned in a month on the base.

  “No wonder all these Army guys can buy whatever they want, they get paid shitloads of cash,” Jack muttered angrily.

  “Think this is a lot, I bet the officers earn a fuckload more than we do,” Frank said.

  “Who cares, it’s a pittance compared to what I used to earn,” Phillip replied.

  “Suck it rich boy!” Jack said, shaking his head. “It’s a ton more than I used to earn working at my shitty McJob!”

  “Fucking Monopoly money,” Thomas muttered.