by Vohs, J. W.
CHAPTER 15
A world in white greeted Luke when he awoke the morning after the battle; Zach’s company had maintained the guard rotation overnight, and the scouts reported that the snowfall lay at least twelve inches deep in undisturbed areas. Luke was extremely anxious to get to the depot, but he also realized that a six-mile march through a foot of snow, after a two-day ordeal of preparing for and participating in their biggest battle to date, wasn’t something he should subject his young army to first thing this morning. He thought they deserved to sleep a bit longer and have a decent meal or two before tackling what promised to be a cold and arduous journey. Of course, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t scout the base on his own. Plus, he had a promise to keep in Texarkana.
Luke waited until the sun had fully broken the horizon before waking Gracie to share his plans. He concluded with, “You know that I’m not needed here today, and we’ve already established that I’m not in very much danger out there.” He didn’t mention that he thought word was beginning to spread among the troops about why he always wore mirrored glasses. The curious stares had begun the previous evening, and Luke knew he would have to address the issue with the entire group very soon.
“You’re not going alone; we have no idea what to expect at the depot. You go, I go,” she stated firmly.
“You know I know how good you are in a fight, but you’ll just slow me down,” Luke replied, trying not to sound insulting. “I was just going to have a quick look around so we’ll know what to expect before everybody gets there.”
“How about this,” Gracie countered, “we’ll take most of my troops, including mechanics, and get a snow plow running. You can’t deny that’s a good idea.”
The truth was, Luke hadn’t even thought about snowplows. “That’s actually a really good idea. You think some of your people could operate one?”
“Do you even listen to your company commanders?”
“Uh, yeah,” Luke stammered, “of course I do.”
Gracie frowned as she shook her head. “So it’s just your wife you don’t listen to?” She sighed. “Never mind, I know I’ve told you about the crazy skills among the members of the headquarters company a number of times. We have mechanics, tool and die people, welders, road-workers, heavy-equipment operators, two graduates of culinary arts school; hell, we even have a farrier.”
“Umm, what’s a farrier?”
Gracie squinted at Luke skeptically. “You’re just playing with me now; you know farriers shoe horses.” She ran her fingers through her hair and reached around Luke for her canteen. After taking a big swig, she added, “Well, it’s a lot more complicated than that, but we have one.”
“We’re pretty lucky, aren’t we? I mean, under the circumstances.” Luke pulled Gracie close. “I know I’m a lucky man. Your snow plow idea is perfect; I’d still like to scout ahead, but you can get your squads together and follow me.”
“I can do that,” Gracie reluctantly agreed, “but I’d rather go with you.” Before Luke could say anything, she waved her hand dismissively. “I know, I know—you’ve got like, superhero skills now, and you can move a lot faster on your own.”
“Actually, there’s more to it than that; I really don’t mind that you’d slow me down,” Luke reassured her. “I didn’t mention it, but Terry saw my eyes earlier. I told him what happened after the bite, and he wasn’t scared at all. I think I would feel better if he’d been a little bit scared, but he looked at me with such reverence, I felt like a cult leader or something.”
Gracie smiled and took Luke’s face in her hands. “What is your main job these days, Luke?” He looked slightly confused, so she clarified, “I mean actual job—the work that you do.”
“A leader of an army, I guess.”
“Exactly, you’re the leader of an army. You need to inspire the troops. With everything that’s happened, it’s amazing that we’ve found people who haven’t been defeated by hopelessness. Babe, you’d be inspirational even if you hadn’t survived a bite, but you did survive.”
Luke looked exasperated. “I know, but that doesn’t make me infallible. People shouldn’t blindly follow me just because I’ve survived a bite—it was stupid of me to let myself get bit in the first place.”
“Maybe,” Gracie countered, “but maybe not. You always trust your gut, like you’re tapped in to some plan that’s bigger than both of us. That’s why we’re heading west now. It may make you uncomfortable, but you need to accept that part of being the leader of your army is also being the symbol of hope—the kick-ass symbol of hope.”
Luke was quiet for a minute. “OK,” he finally responded, “but if I have to be the symbol of hope, you have to be the symbol of smart. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. Your ideas have saved us more times than I can count.”
Gracie reached up and ruffled Luke’s hair. “You’re exaggerating, but I love you for it.”
“I’m totally serious. I know a lot of history, and I study military books, but you seem to be naturally interested in everyone we meet and everything they do. Then you come up with great ideas that seem so obvious, but nobody else thought of them—like the snowplow.”
Gracie leaned back and crossed her arms. “Dad told me a story once, about his first stint in the Army. He was working down at the motor pool one day and saw his lieutenant’s butt sticking out of the hood of a five-ton truck.”
She held up a hand to forestall Luke’s obvious question. “He knew who it was because the lieutenant was a five-foot-nothing wisp of a pretty Hispanic woman who’d arrived in the battalion a week earlier. He said that the butt had already been admired by all, in spite of the BDUs they wore in those days.”
“Okay,” Luke acknowledged, “one question answered.”
Gracie continued, “When Dad politely pointed out to her that the enlisted soldiers had motor pool covered, this young officer just as politely told him that she intended to learn everything about the truck, because she would be riding shotgun during the next deployment. Dad said she was just as attentive on the ranges they practiced on, PT, and everything else the company did. He told me that story lots of times, and it’s an example I’ll always remember. Dad may be gone now, but I still want him to be proud of me.”
The melancholy mood was broken by the sound of an approaching ATV. Gracie gave Luke a little shove. “Go—I’ll get my soldiers organized and head out for the depot as soon as possible. I’ll try to get a feel for any rumors that might be circulating about the mysterious Captain Seifert.”
Barnes had awakened with a slight headache; he assumed it was from the wine at dinner the previous evening. Andi had demonstrated a higher tolerance for alcohol than he’d anticipated, so he’d indulged in a few more glasses than usual. He was a bit irritated that sharing a bottle and a half of decent merlot hadn’t impaired her judgment or loosened her tongue—in fact, she’d shown no signs of intoxication at all. He hoped that she would still be susceptible to a substantial hangover. He’d been anticipating stories of Jack and the resistance, or at least of Jack and Andi’s trite romance. Instead, they’d debated politics and human nature; the conversation had been mildly interesting, but he would have greatly preferred a window into Jack’s world.
Although a complimentary breakfast in the dining hall was a regular feature for the staff and construction workers, the president’s presence in the former hotel had resulted in tightened security; the dining room was no longer open to “the public.” Only certified individuals with the proper clearance were allowed in the newly restricted areas. For this reason, Barnes was surprised to see a man gazing out the window near the table that had been meticulously set up for the president’s morning feast. He didn’t recognize the man’s back, and the stranger’s uniform was wrinkled and stained.
“Most people try to clean up before meeting their president for breakfast,” Barnes snapped.
Daniels turned around with an insolent grin. “My apologies, Mr. President—I just arrived a few minute
s ago, and I thought you’d be interested in hearing my good news.”
“You should know that I don’t like surprises, General,” Barnes responded in a much friendlier tone, “but I do like good news. Have a seat; breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“Thank you, sir. Right now, I’d really appreciate some coffee.” Daniels sat down across from Barnes and wolfishly eyed the sugar and cream as he poured himself a steaming cup of what was formerly known as Pike Place when ordered at the local Starbucks.
Barnes impatiently waited until Daniels had prepared himself a cup of coffee and taken the first sip. “So what is this good news of yours?”
Daniels smacked his lips with satisfaction as the coffee met with his palate’s approval. He smiled again. “I’ve personally completed a tour of our staging areas, and as of last night, we have more than six hundred thousand ‘soldiers’ assembled in and around the military bases and parklands east of L.A.”
Barnes forced a frown in spite of being secretly pleased at the number. “We’re still outnumbered by those damn Mormons, and every one of them is carrying three guns and a spear.”
Daniels knew his commander well enough to see through the dour expression. “Sir, we’ll double that number in ten days at the rate we’re progressing. Ten round-up units are reporting in as overflowing, which means that another half-million are headed this way. We’ve been working overtime rounding up cattle too; fortunate for us that Cali was one of the top five cattle producing states before the outbreak.”
Barnes knew that Daniels was trying to impress him, but if his reports were true . . .
Daniels seemed to read his president’s thoughts. “We’ll be ready to move on Utah well ahead of schedule if needed,” he declared with confidence. “We should be able to wipe Utah off the map within a month.”
Gracie assembled her company on the bridge. “We’re going to march to the depot this morning and try to locate a snow plow and other heavy equipment; I’m sure the rest of the army would appreciate an open road down to the base. If any of you are hiding an injury from the fight yesterday, or otherwise think you might have a problem slogging through a foot of snow for six miles, please let me or your squad leader know ASAP.”
A burly-looking platoon sergeant raised his hand. When Gracie acknowledged the man he explained, “I was stationed at the depot for almost two years. Decided to stay in the area after gettin’ out, but that was just six months ago; I know the base real well.”
Another hand went up. “I was stationed there too; still was, when the outbreak happened and most of us got killed fightin’. One of the communities along the river took me and my buddy in when they saw we was soldiers.”
“Is your buddy in this army?” Gracie asked.
The soldier sadly shook his head. “He left a few weeks later to head out for Dallas, goin’ to look for his family.”
Gracie nodded her understanding. “He may still be alive, and you definitely are; thanks for joining up with us.”
The young man smiled as another voice, that of a young woman, piped up from the fourth rank of her platoon. “I know the base, too, ma’am.”
“Step out of the ranks,” Gracie said, raising her voice slightly, “I can’t see you back there.”
The soldier looked to be about fourteen, though Gracie knew she was supposed to be at least four years older than that to be part of this army. For all her youthfulness, there was a hardness to the girl’s expression that Gracie recognized.
“My dad worked at the depot my whole life, ma’am; he was the head of base maintenance, and when I wasn’t in school, I was usually with him.”
Gracie smiled at the girl. “Did you live on the base?”
The girl returned the smile. “There’s no housing on the base, ma’am; well, except for the cabins by the lake, but they’re just part of the campground. It’s a huge base, but I do know where a lot of stuff is.” She hesitated, then asked, “Ma’am? Will Captain Seifert be coming with us to the depot?”
A hush fell over the group, as if everyone had stopped breathing at once. Looks like Luke was right about the gossip, Gracie thought. She cleared her throat and answered crisply, “We’ll be meeting Luke, Captain Seifert, there—he left a while ago. I know he has plans for addressing all the troops to go over what we’ve accomplished and what our next steps will be. He’ll be taking questions if there’s anything in particular you’d like to ask him.” A quiet murmur temporarily replaced the silence, and several soldiers were nodding their heads respectfully. Gracie continued, “Right now, you all need to be focused on one thing: this mission. Any of you know how to run a snowplow?”
One of the soldiers who’d been stationed at the depot raised his hand, as did two other men Gracie knew only by sight. They stepped forward and explained that they had been “dirt-boys” in the Air Force Reserve before the outbreak and had been trained to operate any machine needed in the construction of runways and other infrastructure vital to Air Force operations around the world.
We really are lucky, Gracie thought. She told the squads that they would be moving out in fifteen minutes and dismissed them to prepare. She was impressed when the entire group had geared up and reassembled with nearly five minutes to spare. She radioed Luke to let him know that they were about to head out, and he reported no signs of hunter activity along the road. He told her to take Highway 82 down to the main gate, and to let him know when her troops arrived at the intersection of 8 and 82.
The march to the depot was as miserable as advertised; trudging through a foot of snow was nobody’s idea of fun, but the company passed through the main gates at noon.
Luke had arrived at the depot without incident. Once inside, he scanned the area for potential danger. The place looked like a giant junk yard of snow-covered vehicles surrounded by various buildings, including massive warehouses. Luke began to worry about the number of flesh-eaters that could still be hiding throughout the facility, and he quickly located a few small packs of hunters.
Luke was glad to be on his own; it gave him the opportunity to see just how much protection his hybrid state afforded him when facing multiple creatures. He approached the first group slowly, keeping an eye out for any of the special type who seemed to want to communicate with him. Luke was both disappointed and relieved to find only “normal” flesh-eaters, none of whom were particularly impressive. After circling the group a few times, he decided to try something different; he was mildly surprised when he was able to reach out and snap the tallest creature’s neck without facing any resistance. He was even more surprised by the complete lack of aggression when he sliced through another hunter’s head with his axe and spattered bloody brain matter all over the rest of the group. The most unnerving thing happened when Luke took a few steps back, away from the blackening snow fanning out from the split in the dead beast’s skull; the remaining hunters began to follow him.
At first, Luke wasn’t sure what to think, so he sprinted about twenty feet in the opposite direction. Sure enough, all seven hunters kept pace behind him. What the hell? Suddenly it occurred to him that he must have killed the pack leader. He laughed bitterly as he realized that, for the moment, he was the alpha male of his own personal pack of hunters. He had no idea how to communicate with them, though he expected that they would be able to respond to simple commands if he knew how to give them. Sort of like dogs. It only took his mind a few seconds to adjust the comparison—like rabid, murderous dogs just waiting for an opportunity to attack humans. His next thought brought a flood of conflicting emotions. But I am human. He said it out loud, “I’m human,” and worried that he still needed convincing.
Luke reminded himself that the infected were once humans too. Barnes had stolen their bodies and their lives; in a way, these creatures were innocents—diseased innocents. He decided his bow would be the most humane and palatable way to finish off the rest of the pack, if he could establish and maintain sufficient distance. Fortunately, Luke’s peripheral vision picked u
p a large rat, within striking range, scurrying around the corner of a building. With one fluid motion, Luke drew, aimed, and fired. He jogged over to the deceased rodent, retrieved his arrow, and tossed the trophy to the approaching pack. Their demeanor was instantly transformed as they snarled and snapped at each other, fighting for the small piece of fresh meat. Their growls grew fainter as, one-by-one, Luke dropped each hunter in the bloodied snow.
When Luke located other packs on the base, he only observed them long enough to determine if there were any of the different hunters, the ones who didn’t act like the others, the ones that tried to communicate. He didn’t try to rationalize why he felt compelled to spare these special creatures; he just knew it was the right thing to do. Just like it was the right thing to eliminate the dangerous, mindless beasts still lurking in the depot. By the time he’d spent an hour and a half scouring the area, he was fairly confident that the base was hunter free for at least a mile in—Gracie’s squads would have to take over from there until the rest of the troops arrived.
Luke was trying to remember which of the buildings held what kind of vehicles when Gracie radioed from the highway. He made his way back to the main entrance and watched his troops spill through the gate. They arrived cold, caked in snow, and more than ready to take a break from the frigid wind. Luke directed them to the loading dock attached to the first building on the left, across from the visitor’s center—the same building where he’d found boxes full of MREs, many chewed through, but some appearing potentially rodent free.
Luke watched Gracie circulate among her squads with a combination of genuine friendliness and no-nonsense authority; he admired her natural ease with people, and he knew the depot would be in good hands while he kept his promise to the kids in Texarkana. He motioned for Gracie to join him by the main doors.