by David Achord
“Sergeant Benoit and I both have ample combat experience under our belts, sir, and if I may be frank, the Marines will need the two of us on this upcoming mission.”
Sarah could see both men frowning and held up a hand. “I believe I know what you’re thinking.” She pulled a notepad out of her breast pocket. “Captain Kitchens has already given me an overview of the upcoming mission. Justin and I, excuse me, Lieutenant Smithson and I put together something.”
All of them at the table now listened in rapt attention as Sarah began reciting a mission order.
Justin and Ruth walked by the conference room and paused long enough to glance through the little window. Zach’s back was to them and they could hear him describing his list of rules. They stood by the door and listened a moment.
“I wonder how long it’ll take before he tells them where to go,” he said.
Ruth snickered as the two of them walked off and made their way outside. They paused outside the door and watched as the small contingent of Marines slowly gathered in a loose formation. He made a headcount of twelve; one missing. Two if you count Ensign Boner.
“There doesn’t seem to be much of a sense of urgency with them,” he muttered. Ruth nodded in agreement. He was about to give her a pat on the butt before catching himself. “Alright, let’s get this started. Go on and join them.”
Ruth grinned as she came to attention and saluted her lover before jogging over to the other Marines. She bid them good morning and stood at the rear of the formation. The other Marines looked her over casually and then went back to their private conversations. Justin approached them in a purposeful walk, came to a stop in front of them, and called them to a position of attention in that unique Marine lingo.
They all came to attention, but not with the precision Marines were normally noted for. They were sloppy, Justin thought. Zach would’ve used a big word like lackadaisical. They stared at Justin indifferently, perhaps even with a hint of insolence.
Justin wasn’t intimidated and returned their stares. A tardy Marine rounded a corner of one of the buildings and casually strolled over to the formation. Justin stared daggers at him as the soldier worked his way into formation and scratched himself as he stood at attention.
“Where the hell is your CO?” he finally demanded. There were a few guffaws, including one from a soldier in the front rank. Justin immediately walked up and stood in his face.
“What’s so funny?” Justin growled. The laughter stopped, but the soldier returned Justin’s stare. One of the older soldiers, Justin thought, who looked around twenty-seven or so, cleared his throat.
“You’d be referring to Ensign Boner,” he said. “He ain’t here – sir.” There was a long pause before he said sir, which emitted a chuckle in the back ranks.
Justin looked at his nametag and rank. He had three stripes, a bottom rocker, and the crossed rifles. An E-6. That meant this man was a lifer, a career man. He was a lean, dark-skinned soldier, standing a little over six feet tall and was staring back at Justin impassively.
“Crumby, is it?”
“Yes, sir, Sergeant Jeremiah Crumby. I’m the squad leader for first squad, such as it is.” He pointed behind with his thumb to a soldier standing directly behind him.
“That there is Corporal Conway; he’s the squad leader for second squad, such as it is.”
“Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Where do you think Ensign Boner may be?” Justin asked in a harsh voice barely above a whisper.
Sergeant Crumby gave an apathetic shrug. “Well, sir, he comes and goes. To be honest, I didn’t see him at breakfast. He has a habit of sleeping in sometimes.”
Justin eyed Sergeant Crumby a long minute before he resumed his place at the front of the formation and began speaking.
“Alright everyone, listen up. My name is Justin Smithson. I was a Gunnery Sergeant in my beloved Corps until recently when the president himself promoted me to lieutenant. I am now in charge of you people.”
“Uh, sir, have you cleared this with command?” Sergeant Crumby asked. Before Justin could answer, another Marine spoke.
“Incoming,” he said under his breath.
“Sir,” Sergeant Crumby said in almost a whisper and a nod of his head. “Here comes Ensign Boner.”
Everyone turned toward the sergeant’s head nod. A beefy man with a pink face still puffy from sleep was strolling toward them. His uniform was a digital camouflage pattern as well, but it was distinctly different from the Marine’s uniforms. He stopped in front of Justin and stared at him askance.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Smithson, Lieutenant Smithson. I’m taking charge of these Marines and am hereby relieving you of duty.”
“The hell you are,” he growled.
Justin stared at him for a long five seconds before looking around. His gaze wandered to a spot across the parking. He looked at it a moment before returning his stare to Ensign Boner.
“Sergeant Crumby, what is going on over there?” he asked as he pointed to a patch of ground that appeared to have been recently tilled.
“Well, sir, I believe Senator Hassburg tilled that patch up just yesterday.”
“He’s going to plant cabbage and Brussel sprouts there,” one of the other Marines added.
“Has he sowed it yet?” Justin asked.
“No, sir. He’d planned on doing it today,” the same Marine responded, but didn’t tell Justin he had volunteered to help the senator.
“Perfect,” Justin said and turned toward Ensign Boner. “In Parris Island, we have sand pits for training young recruits. Sometimes they served other purposes, would that be correct, Sergeant Crumby?”
“Yes, sir. Sometimes those pits came in handy when Marines needed to settle a difference of opinion.”
Justin nodded and gestured. “Ensign Boner, I believe we have a difference of opinion that needs to be settled off the books.” He gestured at the dirt patch. “It’s not a sand pit, but it’ll have to do.” He turned and walked toward it without waiting for a response.
Ensign Boner stared at the back of Lieutenant Justin Smithson in irritated confusion before turning toward Sergeant Crumby.
“What the hell is that idiot talking about, Sergeant?” he demanded.
“He’s challenging you to a fight, sir.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said as he watched Justin remove his utility blouse. His taut T-shirt barely hid a lean but muscular torso. “I outweigh him by twenty or thirty pounds, at least.”
“Then you should have no problem, sir,” Sergeant Crumby replied gleefully. There was some derisive remarks in the back ranks now, followed by a couple of them surprisingly urging Ensign Boner on. Boner made a show out of removing his blouse and flexing a heavily muscled torso, indicating he spent a lot of time in the weight room.
“He’s about to learn the hard way I played linebacker in college,” Boner growled with arrogance. He smirked at the Marines, and then casually walked over to where Justin was standing.
“You Marines pay attention,” Ruth said from behind them. A couple of them turned and looked back at her.
“You don’t seem too concerned that your boy is about to get his ass whipped,” one of them remarked.
Ruth snickered. “Boner ain’t my boy.”
When Boner got to within ten feet, he immediately lowered his head and charged Justin like an angry bull. He got to within a hair’s breadth of tackling him when Justin sprawled his legs out while simultaneously wrapping an arm around Boner’s head and snaking his forearm under the big man’s chin. He grabbed his wrist with his other hand and used muscle and leverage to cinch his arm down around the big man’s neck.
Boner grunted when Justin started squeezing and quickly realized he was in a predicament. He started throwing punches into Justin’s gut, ribs, and groin, but Justin didn’t relent, worked his legs, and maneuvered around to Boner’s back. He kept his forearm under Boner’s chin and held on
tightly. It took maybe thirty seconds. Boner flailed around ineffectively before slowly going limp.
Justin held on tightly for another fifteen seconds or so before releasing him. As everyone watched, Justin stood erect and admired his handiwork a moment before casually brushing the dirt off of him and putting his blouse back on. Walking back to the group of Marines, he came to attention and barked a command.
“Marines, atten-hut!”
There was no delay now; the soldiers responded quickly and snapped their heels together in unison.
“Open ranks, march!” he barked. The front rank walked forward two steps.
“At close intervals, dress right, dress!” When the Marines had the proper intervals, Justin barked out a third order.
“Ready, front!”
Justin then approached and began closely inspecting them and their weapons one by one, emitting occasional grunts of dissatisfaction. When he was finished, he marched back to the front of them and ordered them to close ranks.
“At ease,” he said in a tone of disgust. “I’m afraid it’s even worse than I thought; all of you look like a bunch of slack-jawed hippies, and your weapons are filthy. Would you agree, Sergeant Crumby?”
“Well, sir, we’ve been stuck here for a while, and we operate under a more relaxed atmosphere.”
“Sounds like a bunch of BS, Sergeant,” Justin retorted. He shook his head in disgust. “You people look like shit, but fear not, God has answered your prayers and sent me here to square you away.”
“Lieutenant?” one of the Marines from the back rank asked tentatively.
“Yes, Marine?”
“No disrespect intended, but my enlistment ran out almost a year ago. Now I don’t mind helping out and pulling my weight, but I’m not so sure I want to continue taking orders and all the other bullshit that goes along with it.”
There were some immediate murmurs of agreement.
Justin thought for a moment before responding. “Alright, I believe I understand your point. There are probably more than a few of you who feel the same way.”
The Marines responded with some grumblings of assent. Justin nodded in understanding.
“I’m sure all of you are aware we came up here with a group from Tennessee. But do you know why?” Justin paused, but there was no response. “They had a nice set up down there. So why did they decide to come here? For that matter, why did you people stay here and not simply pack up and leave?”
“Some of them did,” one of the Marines lamented.
“But you people didn’t,” Justin replied quickly. “Why not? I’ll tell you why not. Deep down, all of you know this is the starting point for the rebirth of America. Down in Tennessee, I became friends with a man named Zach Gunderson. When you first meet him, you’ll see a rangy, hard-looking man who’s not yet twenty years old, but don’t let his looks fool you; he’s a smart one. We had many talks about the history of mankind, how societies emerged, and more importantly, how some societies became great while others died out. What do you think the common denominator those great societies had?”
“Free Wi-Fi?” one of them said. There were a few chuckles. Even Justin smiled.
“Let me guess, you’re the one they call Joker.”
The Marine who made the facetious comment, the same one who was late, grinned proudly. Justin knew this one was going to be a wise-ass, no matter the circumstances.
“As I was saying, the common denominator was, each of those successful societies understood the need to have an elite fighting unit who were instilled with a sense of honor, duty, and integrity. These elite units protected their society and, more importantly, they protected the weak against an enemy who was stronger than them.” He paused and looked at them pointedly.
“That’s us, Marines. These people need us, now more than ever. And I mean lean, mean, fighting Marines, not a bunch of slack-jawed pussies.”
Joker spoke up. “No disrespect, sir, but lately we ain’t been treated too well. We’ve worked our asses off around here killing off every zombified critter within miles, and these people treat us like we’re nothing more than a necessary evil.” Joker finished his diatribe and spit. One of his fellow Marines gave him a pat on the back.
Justin nodded in understanding. “I’ve no doubt you’re on point, but that’s all about to change. I’ll make you Marines three promises. First promise: I will treat you like a Marine, no more, no less. Second promise: anyone outside of our chain-of-command who gives you a rash of shit will have to answer to me, and I will guarantee they will not like the outcome.”
“So, what’s that third promise?” Corporal Conway asked. Justin eyeballed them all.
“If any of you ever have a problem with me, we’ll find us a cabbage patch and work it out.” He made a subtle gesture toward Ensign Boner, who was still face down in the dirt. They were quiet now, even Joker.
“So, there it is, my fellow Marines, those are my promises. All I ask is you give me two weeks. Give me two weeks and see how you like it with me as your CO. If, at the end of two weeks you feel like a real Marine again, don’t give your term of enlistment a second thought. We’ll be Marines for life, a family. We’ll take care of each other, and we’ll take pride in devoting ourselves to duty.”
“And if we don’t, sir?” the Joker asked.
“If you don’t, you will be formally released from active duty.” There were now some loud murmurs of elation, but Justin cut them short.
“But, you will leave. You will leave this society we are attempting to rebuild and never come back.” Everyone was silent now. Justin continued. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, people. You’re either a Marine, shining like a beacon on a dark stormy night, or you’re a limp-wristed civilian who has no business here. We’ve already got too many of those.”
He waited for any type of rebuttal, but there was none.
“Alright, two weeks it is. The first thing we’re going to start with is make you shipshape again, and we’re going to start with haircuts.”
“We have no clippers, sir,” Sergeant Crumby said.
“You may not have clippers, but Corporal Bullington does, and speaking from personal experience, she is an excellent barber. She also has a razor and a strop for those of you who believe it is acceptable for a Marine to have a scruffy beard. Sergeant Crumby!”
“Sir?”
“See to it.”
“Aye, sir,” Sergeant Crumby answered and began barking out orders.
Justin watched in satisfaction as his Marines lined up. That’s how he thought of them now, his Marines. They began talking excitedly now and peppered Ruth with questions. He then looked around and saw there was a small crowd of people watching. There were also a handful of people staring out of some windows. It was Secretary Stark, General Fosswell, Seth, Sarah, Rachel, and Grant. Most of them were grinning. General Fosswell gave him an approving nod.
Justin walked back over to Boner, who was conscious now and sitting up. He had that dazed and confused look most people had after they’d regained consciousness.
“Would you like a hand?” Justin asked and reached down to help the Ensign. Boner glared at him, slapped Justin’s hand away, and worked himself to a standing position. He marched off on wobbly legs without saying a word. Justin withheld comment and walked back over to Sergeant Crumby.
“I don’t think you two are going to be friends anytime soon, sir,” Sergeant Crumby said.
Justin snorted. “No big loss.”
The sergeant noticed him wincing. “You okay, sir?”
“He hits pretty hard,” Justin answered. “I think he might’ve broken a rib. Good thing I wore a cup.” He paused a moment. “So, what’s your story, Sergeant?”
Sergeant Crumby shrugged. “Not much to tell. I was stationed at Eighth, and I got assigned to the White House about a month before it went bad. Been here ever since. Good speech, by the way.”
“Yep, Corporal Bullington wrote it and made me rehearse it a dozen times.”
“Sounds like you two are a good match.”
“I noticed we don’t have any female Marines,” Justin remarked.
“We had a few when we were at company level strength. Some died, some bugged out. This is all that’s left.”
“Anybody hooked up with any of the women around here?”
“Just me,” Sergeant Crumby replied. “I was lucky enough to charm the pants off of a congressional aide. The rest are single. I’m pretty sure Conway is gay, but he ain’t telling and I ain’t asking.”
“If anyone’s giving him a hard time about it, let them know; I won’t put up with it.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, sir. He’s a good Marine. Everyone likes him.”
“Good.”
Lieutenant Smithson and Sergeant Crumby watched a few minutes as Ruth cut hair.
“Sir? I get the feeling something’s about to happen,” Sergeant Crumby said.
Justin smiled. “You’d be correct, Sergeant. We have a mission briefing in two hours.”
“Is it going to be bad, sir?”
“Well, Sergeant, it’s not going to be a walk in the park.” He glanced at Sergeant Crumby briefly before looking back at the group. “You men are already starting to look like real Marines again.”
Chapter 4 – Melvin
The sky was blanketed in dark thunderclouds when Melvin made it to the outskirts of Oak Ridge. Actually, it was a small area known as Elza, which was on the Oak Ridge Turnpike. He spotted a few businesses at the Melton Lake Road intersection. He stopped and killed the truck’s engine.
“One of these might do,” he muttered, got out, and softly closed his door. He looked around before walking to the front of his truck where Peggy was sitting. Opening her visor, he gave her a light tap on the nose.
“Smell anything?” he asked in a low voice, almost a whisper. Peggy only looked at him.
“Me neither,” he said. With the exception of the wind, it was dead quiet. Not even any birds chirping. Melvin looked up and watched as the dark, ominous storm clouds moved across the sky from the east. There was a lot of lightning in the background, and now he could hear distant thunder. He grunted and looked at his Casio watch.