"Stay strong soldier! Us Marines will pull through."
"I'm Army." The soldier lifted his face and they could see tears of frustration streaming down his face.
"Regardless. We're all in this together, brother. I'm Gunnery Sergeant Samson Henry, 3rd Marine Division, who are you?"
"Sergeant Patrick Conrad, local detachment Army National Guard. Commander here. All they would send per hospital."
"Good. Get your ass in gear and get everyone together. We're moving out." Johnny was amazed at the change that came over Samson. He was in his element and he took charge quickly. "I want all needed pharmaceuticals loaded up. Grab everything you can carry. We are all headed out. Use the gurneys if you have to for supplies. Make damn sure you grab all your ammo. My feeling is we'll need it. First we need to raid the third floor for formula."
"Can't get up there. Too many zombies." Patrick had risen and was deferring to Samson even though his missing legs were obvious.
"Yes we can. Staff passages and elevator. Power’s still on. We'll need someone with a keycard but it's doable. Grab some laundry bags out of the maintenance area; we'll use them to load up all the formula we can carry. Babies need to eat. We'll take their entire supply. Should be about a month or so. Grab all the powder also. We need a dozen or so men. Half your men, Sergeant, and four orderlies along with whoever else you think will be a good fit."
"Will you draw us a map?"
"Hell no, I'm coming with you. Johnny. You're staying here. We need that formula. It won't take long. No shooting, damn it. I don't care if you're dying, guys. You shoot, you alert them. Johnny, give one of the men your sword. Take them down quietly and quickly. No guns."
Their supply force was quickly assembled, along with a keycard grabbed from a doctor, and they left. Johnny waited and took advantage of the time to help organize the escape. Gurneys were loaded up. Pharmaceutical carts were stuffed full. By then the other team was back.
"Dude! Piece of cake. No casualties, and over thirty dead zombies." That was Samson as they let him through the door, behind him followed the even dozen of soldiers and staff, every one bearing at least two stuffed full laundry bags. Samson was still talking. "We have months of formula. I decided to grab it all. Plus diapers. Hell, can't forget those. Plus some other stuff the nurse said was needed." A soldier handed Johnny back his sword, which he gratefully accepted, then noticed it was covered in blood and frowned. With a sigh, he wiped it off on a nearby sheet that cluttered the floor before thrusting it back in its sheath, vowing never to loan it to that particular soldier again.
"Good work, man. We're about done loading up."
"Great! Guys, cinch those supply bags up. Lay one across each baby crib. This is going to be fast and furious. I need able bodied out front to pick up or drag the bodies out of the way. We need to move quickly to the back annex, then to the rehab center. Johnny, get on the radio! We have a lot of people moving. Your guppies will be on our ass. Make damn sure the center has the side gate open. Tell them to use some ammunition if they have to clear the way. Tell them also to make a lot of noise in the front to distract the undead." Johnny nodded at his words and pulled the radio from his belt. Director McLean came in faint but clear. Johnny explained the situation and she said they would be ready.
It was an experience for sure. They made it without losing anyone, although a few narrow escapes occurred. Mainly, they happened between the hospital and the clinic. You can only push a baby crib so fast. Johnny was helped along by one of the soldiers, as they were moving faster than he was used to. Finally, they made it inside the gate, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
*****
DAY 10: 1600 ET SUNDAY NOVEMBER 13TH
I was still fuming about our earlier brush with death. A cold, dark anger had settled within me as I contemplated what had occurred and how to anticipate future incursions. Yes, it was Sunday and everyone's first day off except for select volunteers, but when I called, my team had instantly assembled around me. I had also invited Ashley; she had been the one to intuitively—or divinely, depending on your point of view—determine we were in danger from the island.
We were in the living room of my house. I wanted this hush hush for now with no witnesses, and at the compound people were always coming and going. Top was there, as was Miguel, Steve, and Hawk, and I had sent for Lieutenant Colonel Jeff Botello and his Executive Officer Major Harold Phipps. Major Weston was the last to arrive. He was late because he had brought along Lieutenant Smith, who was barely ambulatory. I frowned at his obvious condition but gave him a very large, yet careful welcome-back-to-the-fold hug. He was so young I almost kissed his forehead, then decided his image would suffer. I immediately opened the meeting.
"All of you that were not there have been filled in about the episode at Hess Lake. Before I get all hyper, I have one question for everyone. Does anyone honestly think these soldiers were anyone other than Rogue Government forces spying on, or trying to infiltrate us?" I waited, anger plain on my face. Everyone shook his or her heads and I nodded as the last did so. We had sent a launch out to the island afterwards but they had not discovered anything useful, other than a camp that had obviously been used for days.
"Okay then. It's time to be proactive with them. No, Dan, we are not at that point yet where you can strip us of our forces and go hunting, but we have learned something from their actions and the evidence. Go ahead, Top." I waved at Darin and he stood up to speak to the group.
"We know that they prefer stealth operations because of three previous documented actions. Also, we've uncovered another unit of dead commandos with explosives and sniper rifles not far from the first group. Both ran into more zombies than they could handle, which works for us."
"Right, but we can't count on that always happening," I interjected, and then waved for him to continue.
"Yes Sir. They had detailed maps of Newaygo and the surrounding area, specifically proposed routes of infiltration and surveillance. Each team also carried a satellite phone. The bodies were fresh, meaning only dead a day or two at the most. Assuming the standard double team for these situations, I would bet we already have another pair either en route or working their way in now." Top sat back down and Major Dan Weston was the first to speak afterwards.
"I wonder if they could be that stupid?" he murmured, and I grinned at him.
"If you mean, do I personally think they'll try again since they've obviously lost contact with their teams and that they might use the same routes? That answer would be yes. I do indeed think they are that stupid." Dan nodded at my words, Lieutenant Smith doing the same, with difficulty. I turned to our newcomers, and reaching out, shook both their hands again before addressing them. They looked mildly surprised at the continued familiarity but I figured they'd get used to it soon enough. Everyone had quieted and waited for me to speak again and all knew my attention was focused on Jeff Botello and Harold Phipps.
"Gentlemen, you have been here less than a day but I'm told you received a full SitRep. Knowing what you know now, what's your take?" Both looked at the other, then Lieutenant Colonel Botello cleared his throat.
"Well Sir, you have a fantastic organization here. No question on that. You're on the sharp end and taking no prisoners which suits, frankly." He grinned then continued. "Your intuition, from the reports Harold and I went over, indicate they never should have let you retire from the service. However, that said, if they hadn't I don't suppose you would be here and neither would we. If you feel they'll try again, then we have your back because Harold and I agree with you." He nodded and then smiled. I smiled back.
"Top! Johnson and Reeves are back with those refugees. How many more like them do we have? Speak up all of you. I want Special Forces, SpecOp and counterinsurgency experts. We're going to pool our resources and play a new game with our foe."
As luck would have it, we had quite a few men trained in silent infiltration. It's really amazing how diversified any given army unit is, and the specialties men and wome
n gained throughout their careers. We had enough to place heavy teams on every known route gleaned from one of the captured maps. My guess was more were coming, if not already here, and our teams would start at the end and work their way to the beginning. It was decided not to bother with silencers, or suppressors as they actually were. In order for them to be effective, you needed subsonic ammunition, and there wasn't much left unless we started making our own.
It was a very dangerous game we were about to play, but then life was always dangerous, especially during a zombie apocalypse. I quickly drew in additional routes, dividing the men into three squads for each known route with a parallel and two flanker units for each. We had enough night vision goggles for each team leader and one man on each team. Then I instructed Top to put his crossbow squads out in force tonight, covering the sides while staying silent and hidden. Instead of hunting the zombies, they were to simply look for movement and take it down quickly if they saw any, as they would be without night vision other than the moonlight. My motto was, when you identified a threat, remove it just as fast as you can without really worrying how you did it.
*****
Sandy smoothed the last of the bandages over Terry's thigh as they sat together on the small couch that was the only furniture in the small bedroom she shared with her two boys. She had invited Terry to spend the day with them after the church service, and as partial thanks for saving her sons’ lives, she had cooked him lunch, then redressed his wounds while they talked. Her boys had thanked Terry again for his rescue and shook his hand like the young men they would soon grow up to be, and the way Terry had shrugged it all off as no big deal had warmed her heart. She had learned all about his dead wife Betty, and about all of his experience in ‘supply and logistics’ as he called it. She had asked if he would be willing to help her with the city’s supplies and he had accepted.
"There, that's the last one I think." She smiled at him and slid back so he could pull his pants back up.
"I swear Sandy, I don't remember getting bit on the leg, but it all happened so fast," Terry replied as he struggled into his jeans.
"What you did was a wonderful, courageous thing that I can never thank you enough for. My boys are ..." she started, and then stopped as Terry's finger touched her lips to silence them.
"Hush, Sandy. I told you, any man or woman would have done the same without hesitation. Besides, I was bored and didn't want to go on my last work detail." He grinned boyishly as he finally removed his finger so she could speak.
However, she did not speak, for Sandy was scared to death. She was scared almost witless worrying about her future and that of her boys. Pete had always been there. Strong, kind, and gentle was the best way to describe her deceased husband, and she felt his loss deeply. For the last few nights she had woken from nightmares of that fatal event, and more often than not had heard one or both of their children crying where they were cuddled up next to her. All she could do was comfort them and give them the hope that everything would be all right with Jay watching over them.
Some small part of her had assumed Jay and she would become an item after Pete's death, even though Jay already had three girlfriends, and she was really close to Jean, who was a super person. She knew Jay liked her and found her desirable, but, being honest with herself, she also knew Jay found almost all women sexy and desirable. She and Pete used to laugh about that. Long ago, they had figured out Jay's routine with women. He would usually flirt with the married ones because he knew they were safe and he could get his fourteen-year-old inner child out without worrying about too many consequences.
Now, her options were severely limited, and her future did not look so bright anymore. She was scared for her children's future without a strong man looking over them. As for herself, she knew she was like most women and wanted and needed a loving and caring man beside her, a partner to help raise her children and excite her nights. Therefore, she had spent the day with Terry, not only to thank him for saving her son's lives, but also to learn more about the man that had come out of nowhere...to the rescue. She had to approach this like a business and not a romance, because none of them had the months or years a sound relationship normally needed to advance.
So she said nothing when he removed his finger from her lips, and simply watched him, remembering that she had kissed him twice yesterday afternoon. Once on the cheek, then another gently on the lips. She was not sure why she had done so, just that she had felt so happy her boys were safe and grateful that this man had rescued them. She supposed her silence had been taken as unspoken permission to kiss her, for now he leaned forward, his left hand reaching out for her. She started to lean in until their lips almost touched again before panic set in and she drew back. Immediately she started crying as she tried to explain her feelings.
"I'm sorry. Terry, I'm so sorry. I'm so frightened and I don't know what I'm doing. I need more time to adjust to Pete being gone, yet I'm afraid of losing another good man. I'm afraid what will happen tomorrow, and the day after that, and if my boys will be safe, and ..." Then his finger was against her lips again and she shut up. She knew she was blubbering and not making sense, so she just looked down at her clenched hands pressed into her lap.
"Hun, I understand," he replied. She looked up and he was gently smiling at her, but he hadn't removed his finger yet, so she waited while watching him again.
"We're both scared right now. I just lost Betty and never thought I'd ever be with another woman again. I'm old, you know," he chuckled softly, looking down.
"You're not old at all," she mumbled around his finger, then he pressed it harder and she fell silent again.
"I'm old enough. You're almost twenty years younger than me, Sandy. For the last two years I've just existed, aimless, with no goals and no real meaning to life anymore with Betty gone. Nevertheless, when I saw those children in trouble, something changed in me. I came alive for the first time in years. I cannot explain it Sandy. I knew, at that split second moment in time, I was it, and all they had. All that stood between those youngsters and death, and life suddenly had meaning for me again, so I acted. I would do it again. I honestly didn't think I would survive, but I did, and in the process I met a beautiful, loving, caring mother of two fine boys that have no idea how much she loves them and what she's thinking about doing to keep them safe. I do understand, Sandy. Why don't we work together on Newaygo's survival, and take this relationship one day at a time as you’re ready?" And then she was bawling and his arms were wrapped around her, holding her tightly as he pressed his lips against her forehead.
*****
"You get ahold of them yet?" the Reaper growled at Travis as he poked his head up through the trapdoor in the ceiling of the old metal stamping plant the kids were hiding in. They had found over a hundred children of various ages, with no adult supervision. The children had just been existing, and making a damn game of killing zombies as they quickly reverted to a tribal lifestyle. Jason noticed many of the older boys had girl friends, and from the looks of them, that whole boyfriend/girlfriend stage had gone past first and second base, and maybe also third. They were too young and they needed older people around them so they could be kids again. Even in this life and death situation, they did not need to think they were alone and on their own, so his new friend Travis was trying to contact the Sirens, the biker gang here in Grand Rapids that was making a difference and saving people.
"Yeah, Reaper, but I'm waiting on that chick in charge, Alethea. They went to get her." Suddenly the portable radio Travis held in his hand squawked and a voice issued from it, this one a female voice of indeterminate age, and she spoke quickly.
"Come in, Reaper Apprentice Travis. I understand you have a hundred or more children going wild and needing a home?" The leader of the Sirens was no nonsense, and Jason could sense both excitement and impatience in her voice.
"Reaper's Apprentice Travis?" The Reaper raised one eyebrow as he gazed at Travis.
"Hey. I am, and besides, I might ge
t lucky with the new handle." Travis grinned at him in embarrassment.
"Travis, they're lesbians!"
"Some may go both ways. Who knows!" Travis replied and started talking on the CB while the Reaper made a point of rolling his eyes in an obvious manner, then grunted as Travis made an equally obvious point of ignoring him.
"Here Sirens. Yes to that, and the Reaper was hoping you could take them in before more are killed. They're kids and doing stupid kid things. Besides, they're starting to hook up and Reaper thinks ten years old is a bit young for that kind of thing," Travis told the Sirens’ leader.
A warm laugh sounded from the speaker, then, "Roger that, Travis. Understood and we'll be there shortly. Mouse has the grid layout and your location so give us an hour to work through the sewers."
The Reaper pulled the hand-held from Travis's hand and, depressing the talk button, spoke.
"Thank you Sirens. They need supervision. I dislike pre-teens having babies, not that they would survive long enough to do so. Do I have your word on those rules?" Then he released the button and waited.
"This must be the Reaper I'm talking to now. Yes, you do have my word. No kids under the age of sixteen doing the hokey pokey, and I run a tight ship! Anything else?"
"Yeah, they may not want to go with you. They are resisting adult supervision, but they're dying on their own."
"Got it Reaper. Don't worry. I'll whip them in line, or drag their bound bodies through the shit in the sewers to their new home. Does that work?" The Reaper actually grinned at her words and the force behind them.
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