Dead Team Alpha: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Jake Bible

  “Not if you get me out of here!” Val shouts from inside the canvas. “Come on, TL! We’ve been up here for an hour!” A barrage of dirt clods nails the bag. “Fuck! Stop it!”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Diaz says. “Not an hour. Chick is losing her shit.”

  “I’m not losing my shit, asshole!” Val yells. “Tell TL, Hawks! It’s been at least a fucking hour!”

  There’s no response from the other bag.

  “She dead?” Tiny D asks. “Hey, Hawks! You dead?”

  There’s a noise from the bag, but it’s hard to hear over the kids shouting and giggling.

  “Quiet!” TL Lafferty orders. The kids shut up instantly.

  The sound comes again and the Team looks around at each other then starts laughing.

  “She’s fucking snoring!” Duster bellows. “Oh, that’s fucking priceless!”

  “Get them down,” TL Lafferty says. “One’s asleep and the other’s having a fit. We have a briefing in fifteen.”

  “What?” Tiny D asks. “I thought briefing was at 0400?”

  “Just got word the 0400 briefing is for something else,” TL Lafferty says. “Don’t ask me what because I’m not saying. Just know we have a long fucking week ahead of us.”

  “Full tour then?” Clank asks.

  “Yep,” TL Lafferty says. “Commander Lee wants Sector Eight scouted and thinned. Zs are getting thick in there.”

  “Fuck,” Alastair says. “I hate marching to Sector Eight.”

  “Everyone does,” TL Lafferty says. “That’s why it’s never properly maintained. DTB’s been slacking.”

  “Fucking Betas,” Duster snarls.

  “Hey!” Val shouts. “I used to be a Beta! We never fucking slacked!”

  “Cut her down and get your asses to the briefing,” TL Lafferty says.

  “Yes, sir,” Diaz nods. “Okay, Team, time to let the rookies off the hook.”

  ***

  “We hit Broomfield and then take 121 down to Lakewood,” TL Lafferty says as she points to an area on a large map spread out before the Team. “As you know, Sector Eight is what remains of a huge residential area.”

  “With that old shopping thing at the bottom,” Duster says.

  “Bear Valley Center,” Val says, glaring at each Mate in turn.

  “Yeah, that,” Duster grins. “That place ain’t too tight for ya, is it Baptiste?”

  “Fuck you,” Val says, giving him the finger.

  “We have West Yale Avenue down to 285,” TL Lafferty says. “Sheridan on one side and Federal on the other.” She gives Val a withering look. “We’ll hump it over to Colorado Heights University then work our way to Bear Valley. Last reports were those buildings have filled up with Zs.”

  “Why do they do that?” Alastair asks.

  “Old ways,” Bobby says.

  “Old ways,” Tiny D agrees.

  “Fucking mindless Zs,” Duster says.

  “Why Sector Eight now?” Clank asks.

  “Copper,” TL Lafferty replies. “It’s the new initiative. Bear Valley hasn’t been stripped of its copper yet. We take inventory and send our new Runner back with numbers while we hold the shopping center.”

  “Who’s the new runner?” Junior asks.

  “Don’t know,” TL Lafferty says. “We’ll pick him up at the Bell Tower.”

  “What the fuck is all this copper shit about?” Diaz asks. “Not that I expect an answer.”

  “Good, because I ain’t giving one,” TL Lafferty says. “So that’s Objective One. Objective Two is to get this Team gelling as a complete unit. I know you’ve had your fun hazing the new Mates.”

  “We’d have left you two out there all night if we weren’t on duty at ass o’clock,” Diaz says. “Feel lucky, rookies.”

  “And no more rookie shit,” TL Lafferty glares. “They’ve cut their teeth in the DTBs. They know Denver, they know the dangers, and they know how to handle themselves. We need to be working on cohesion and not coercion.”

  “I don’t think coercion is the right word, TL,” Alastair says.

  “Sounds good, though,” Junior replies. “What’s that called?”

  “Alliteration,” Bobby says.

  “Right, alliteration,” Junior nods.

  “You guys done?” TL Lafferty asks. “Or should we just stop the fucking briefing and switch to grammar time.”

  “That’s like the line in that song the Rug Munchers sing on Fridays at Cook’s Place,” Duster says. “What’s the name?”

  “Hammer Time,” Bobby answers. “Liz really gets into that bass line. Mickey ain’t too bad on the mandolin.”

  “Fuck you all,” TL Lafferty says.

  “Sorry, sir,” Val says. “I’m listening.”

  “Don’t suck up to me, Baptiste,” TL Lafferty frowns. “Everyone clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” they all reply.

  “Good,” TL Lafferty says, rubbing her face. “Now, get back to the barracks and-.”

  “Get drunk?” Alastair asks.

  “Get some rest, smart ass,” TL Lafferty replies. “You can get drunk when we get back.” She looks everyone over, making sure they make solid eye contact before moving on to the next person. “Dismissed.”

  “Sir!” they all say, stand straight, salute, then turn and exit quickly.

  ***

  0330 comes quickly for Val. One moment she’s climbing into her bunk, thinking she’ll never get to sleep, and the next moment, someone’s smacking her on the cheek.

  “Rise and shine, rookie,” Tiny D says. “Time to pop your DTA cherry.”

  “We’ll be gentle on ya,” Duster says from across the room, already halfway dressed. “We promise.”

  “You got ten minutes to shit and shower,” Diaz says. “Then we hit the armory, suit up, and sit our asses down for the big, rah-rah briefing then march, march, march.”

  “March?” Val asks. “We’re not taking the trolleys down the mountain?”

  “Today? No,” Diaz replies. “That’s why we have a 0500 call. Six hour march down the Turnpike until we hit outskirts. Then another three hours to Lakewood.”

  “More like four,” Bobby says. “If the new Mates don’t hold us up.”

  Val hops down and catches Hawks’s eye. Neither of them has had to do a ten hour full march since basic training. Both are used to using the trolley system that is basically a set of wheeled steel cages hooked to cables that are control-rolled down the mountain from switching station to switching station. It makes traveling back and forth so much faster.

  However, Val has an idea TL Lafferty wants to see what the new Mates are made of. Val also has an idea that the march is not even close to the last of the tests TL Lafferty has in store for them.

  “She’s gonna take that from ya,” Diaz says as Val gets dressed and straps on her blade. “Bobby told ya that TL hates modifications to a field kit. We all use the same gear.”

  “We’ll see,” Val says. “I think an exception will be made for this. It’s part of Stronghold history and has gotten me out of more scrapes than I care to count.”

  “The fact you got into those scrapes at all isn’t a ringing endorsement,” Clank says. “Maybe keep that to yourself when TL reads you the riot act.”

  “This is DTA, not the DTBs,” Tiny D says. “World of difference, girl.”

  “I’m learning that,” Val says.

  “Oh, you haven’t learned shit,” Alastair laughs. “Get your boots on and I’ll show you the armory.”

  “I know the armory,” Val frowns. “It’s the same one we all use.”

  DTA all look at each other and smile.

  “Like I said,” Alastair grins. “You haven’t learned shit.”

  ***

  “An M-4,” Val sneers. “How exciting. Just like the one I’ve used for years. You DTAs really know how to surprise a Mate.”

  The carbine sits on a counter in front of the armory cage, an annoyed Quartermaster Kevin Ross looking from Val to Alastair and back.


  “Why do you people do this to me?” he asks, glaring at Alastair. “Just tell the new Mates what gear they are getting. This doesn’t have to be a production every goddamn time.”

  “Just slide over the rest, Kev,” Alastair says.

  “Fine,” Kevin says. “Here we go.”

  Val watches as Kevin pushes the M-4 out of the way and starts stacking accessories next to it.

  “4x scope,” he says, naming each item. “QD sound suppressor. Forward hand grip. Visible laser. Visible light. IR pointer slash illuminator.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…IR?” Val asks. “As in infrared?”

  “Yes, that’s what it stands for,” Kevin says. “Can I continue?”

  “No,” Val says. “What do we need an IR pointer for? The human eye can’t see that.”

  “That’s what goggles are for,” Alastair says.

  “We get goggles? You mean night vision goggles?” Val asks. “I thought only the Silo Teams got those? How’d I never know DTA gets NVGs?”

  “Because if the other Teams knew about that then they’d want some,” Alastair says. “And there aren’t enough to share.”

  “They can’t be repaired indefinitely,” Kevin says. “All spares are kept for parts.”

  “Jesus,” Val replies. “Cool.”

  “Want to know what else is cool?” Alastair asks. “Show her, Kev.”

  “I hate this shit,” Kevin says. “Please, can’t you pick up gear like other Teams? Just grab and go?”

  “We like the drama,” Alastair says. “Now show her.”

  Kevin plops down a bulky piece of plastic and metal. “Day slash night scope.”

  “No, no, not that,” Alastair says. “The big one.”

  “This is pretty big,” Val says, picking up and looking at the day/night scope. “It just fits on top?”

  “You have to remove the handle sight,” Kevin says. “Just like when putting on the 4x scope.”

  “Come on, man!” Alastair snaps. “Show her the big one!”

  Kevin growls and reaches below the counter, coming up with a short, fat tube.

  “M203 barrel assembly grenade launcher,” he says. “Ta fucking da.”

  “A frag popper!” Val grins. “I’ve been waiting to have one of these forever!”

  “Welcome to DTA,” Alastair says. “You can mod your carbine all you want, but TL hates it if you get showy around other Teams. Don’t act like the kid with the best toys or she’ll take them away.”

  Kevin pushes everything towards Val then plops a clipboard on top. “Sign here.”

  Val signs quickly, tosses a small pack onto the counter, and begins carefully loading the equipment, making note of the exact position of each item. She gets it all organized and then notices Kevin staring at her.

  “What?” she asks.

  “That,” he says, nodding to her belt. “Didn’t they tell you TL Lafferty won’t let you take it? You want to sign it over to me until you get back?”

  “It’s coming with,” Val says. “Right here on my hip.”

  Kevin looks over at Alastair. “She for real?”

  “She thinks so,” Alastair shrugs. “Live and learn, right?”

  “Your funeral,” Kevin says to Val. “Don’t say I didn’t offer. Sweet looking blade. I’d hate for it to get confiscated.”

  “Why is she so dead set on all of us having the same field kit?” Val asks.

  “It’s all about variables,” Alastair says. “Interchangeability. One of us goes down and we know the inventory on the corpse. Easy to retrieve and not leave anything behind. Plus, TL likes to be in control.”

  “I do,” TL Lafferty says from the armory doorway. “But please enlighten me on what specific control we’re talking about.”

  “I have work to do,” Kevin says and turns and walks away.

  “Me too,” Alastair says. “I’ll get Hawks. Don’t go too far, Kevin!”

  He gets a middle finger in response just as Kevin disappears into the gear-laden shelves.

  TL Lafferty stands before Val, her arms across her chest, waiting for an answer. The two women watch each other for a few seconds before Val caves.

  “This,” she says and pats the sheathed blade. “They say you won’t let me bring it with.”

  “Let me see,” TL Lafferty says, her hand out.

  Reluctantly, Val takes the sheath from her belt and sets it in TL Lafferty’s waiting palm. The woman stares at it for a minute then slowly draws the blade from the sheath. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as she turns the blade this way and that, inspecting every millimeter of the weapon.

  “This the legend?” TL Lafferty asks.

  “Yes, sir,” Val replies.

  “You really think it’s the one the Great El gave Granny G?”

  “I do, sir,” Val says. “Been in my family ever since.”

  “Huh,” TL Lafferty says. She slips the blade back into its sheath and hands it to Val. “You can keep it.”

  Val is stunned. “I can?”

  “Yes, Mate, you can,” TL Lafferty answers. “On one condition.”

  “Yeah, yeah, anything.”

  The TL narrows her eyes. “Careful making deals like that, Baptiste.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Val responds. “I just mean I’ll comply with whatever you find fair.”

  “Yes, you will,” TL Lafferty says. “The condition is that as soon as we encounter Zs, you drop all gear, draw your blade, and show us what you got.”

  “Oh,” Val says. “Sure.”

  “That’s not a problem, is it?”

  “No, no, not at all,” Val says.

  “Good,” TL Lafferty says, nodding towards the armory cage. “Grab the rest of your kit.” She turns and walks from the room.

  “This is gonna be gre-,” Alastair says, Hawks in tow, as they walk into the armory. He sees Val standing there with the blade still in her possession. “No way. She let you keep it?”

  “Yeah,” Val says.

  “But the monkey has to dance,” Kevin says as he drops the rest of Val’s field kit onto the counter along with another clipboard. “There you go, Chosen One. All inventoried and accounted for. Sign your life away here.

  Val signs and grabs the large pack, hefts it onto her back and gives the straps a quick pull and cinch. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, and shell casings,” Kevin says. “Don’t forget to pick up any shells you see. We’re getting low and I need more for the next batch of ammo.”

  “Shells, right,” Val nods. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Kevin says. “And don’t blame me, either.”

  “Uh, okay,” Val nods. She gives Hawks and Alastair a smile. “See you at the big briefing.”

  They wait for her to leave and then Alastair rounds on Kevin. “What the hell was that dancing monkey jibe?”

  “The girl has to show she can fight Zs with that blade,” Kevin says. “Good luck with that.” He eyes Hawks and then Alastair. “You couldn’t have brought them in together?”

  “I know how much you love giving that personal touch,” Alastair grins.

  “Fuck you,” Kevin says as he goes back to get Hawks’s M-4 and field kit.

  ***

  “COMMANDER ON DECK!” TL Lafferty shouts as Commander Lee walks into the command center briefing room. Stanford and Cole stand next to her, making up the rest of the TLs present.

  “Be seated,” Commander Lee says as she stands in front of the assembled Mates.

  Everyone grabs a seat and waits for the commander to begin, but their attention is quickly turned to the man that walks into the room shortly after Commander Lee.

  “Good morning, Teams,” Mayor Paul Coolidge says. Portly and friendly of face, Coolidge looks more like the jolly old elf of days gone by than the leader of the Stronghold. “I apologize for the unusual intrusion, but Commander Lee has been kind enough to let me speak to you all for a few minutes.”

  Commander Lee nods, but keeps her eyes on the Mates, obviously not too h
appy with the intrusion at all.

  “As many of you know,” Coolidge begins, “we have begun scouting the Denver area for any and all copper we can get our hands on.”

  He waits, looking around for nods of acknowledgement or understanding, but he just gets blank stares.

  “Right, yes,” he continues. “While the details of why we need the copper specifically are still considered sensitive information between my office and Team command, I can say that the risks you are taking are worth it. I’m not saying I want any of you to be harmed, no not at all. Every person counts.”

  “Every person counts,” the Mates all drone.

  “Yes, yes,” Coolidge nods. “So true.” He takes a deep breath and his face drops the congenial mask that he’s known for. He looks over at Commander Lee and she gives him a worried look. “Despite Commander Lee’s misgivings about filling your head with unnecessary data that isn’t relevant to the exact mission at hand, I can’t, in all good conscience, send you out without some information.”

  This gets the Mates’ attention and the bored looks quickly turn to interest.

  “We have reason to believe that a certain faction from the east may be making a move our way,” Coolidge says. “We don’t know when and we don’t know how large, but we were alerted to this several weeks ago. We have an idea about why they are coming, and gathering up as much copper as fast possible is part of our defense plan. For now, that’s all I can say.”

  “And that is plenty,” Commander Lee says. “Thank you, Mayor.”

  “Of course, Commander Lee,” Coolidge says. “Thank you for your service, Mates. Every person counts. We always remember.”

  “We always remember,” the Mates say and watch the Mayor give a short bow and then leave the room quickly.

  Commander Lee and TL Lafferty share a look, which isn’t lost on Stanford or Cole, as the commander takes back the center of attention.

  “Well, that was different,” Commander Lee says. “Team Leaders?”

  “DTB Two,” Stanford says as he steps forward. “We will be hitting Sector Fifty-one with Reclamation Crew Eight. Our job is security, not engagement. We keep the Zs at bay and out of RC Eight’s way so they can do their thing. And no matter how much they whine or bitch, we are not there to serve them. They get their own water, their own meals, and they wipe their own asses. We just make sure those asses don’t get bitten off. We clear?”