The Soldier (Book 1): Torment

by Lundy, W. J.

“Going where?” Howard asked.

  Still not ready to take questions or demands from the doctor, Gyles turned back. He was trying to co-exist with the self-serving coward, but that relationship was still a long way off. Gyles hardened his stare and delivered an ad hoc plan. “The aircrew is going to leapfrog to a civilian station to attempt to top off then make for Hunter Army Airfield, from there I don’t know.”

  “Then that’s where I am going,” Howard said. “I have to get back to the laboratories in Maryland.”

  Gyles grinned. “Have at it.”

  “What about the rest of us?” Weaver asked.

  “Just before dawn we’ll do like the man says—pack everything up and point the civilians and law enforcement folks east.”

  “What about the rest of us?” Weaver said again.

  Gyles grimaced. “I’m taking as many willing to go back toward Fort Belvoir. There is still a fight out there.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Day of Infection Plus Eleven, 0515 Hours

  GW National Forest, Virginia.

  The infected were at the walls before the last vehicle was loaded. Gyles swiftly walked back to the cabins. He could hear the gunfire. His men were providing cover for the aircrew. The blades were already turning and the big turbines spun up. He saw Weaver leaving the large building, and the man gave him a thumbs up. “Everyone is out. We are all loaded up.”

  “Okay. Mount up. I’m right behind you,” Gyles shouted, moving back to take one last sweep of the compound as the gunfire intensified behind him. He had to ensure nobody was left behind. Satisfied, he turned and ran to the back ramp of the MRAP, moving inside. The big hatch clanked shut behind him as he stepped inside. He moved up to the front and slapped the back of the driver’s seat. “Take us out of here.”

  Luke nodded and the big armored vehicle lurched forward slowly toward the gravel lot. As they moved, the other armored vehicles pulled away from their positions in the wall and joined the long iron snake that was slowly forming on the road. Gyles heard the gunfire and pointed to a headset plugged into the roof of the MRAP. Most of the vehicle’s radios still weren’t plugged into the outside world, but they had managed to get internal communications up.

  Luke pulled down a handset and passed it to Gyles. “We’re Reapers now.”

  “Reapers?” Gyles asked, his eyebrows going up.

  “Hey, the kids liked it.” Luke laughed, easing the big vehicle over ruts.

  Gyles nodded and held the handset to his face. “All Reaper elements, this is Reaper Six. Button up and cease fire; they can’t get at you inside the vehicles. Keep an eye on those civilian trucks. If they need help, get after them.” He let go of the transmission button and counted the responses as each one of the vehicles in the convoy checked in. He looked from the window and saw the swirling dust as the Chinook ripped away from the ground and raced for the civilian airfield less than fifty miles to their east.

  The CH-47 took four of the guardsmen with them for flight crew and security, giving them a crew of nine and leaving twenty-six bodies with the convoy. Gyles hoped it would be enough. It was no surprise to him that once Doctor Howard realized the nature of the Chinook’s mission that he would not be going with them. The men going with the helo gave them more room in the vehicles and less mouths to feed on the convoy. But now they also had less shooters.

  Wondering what to do next, Gyles sat back in the seat. Things were so much easier when he had a command telling him what to do. It was against doctrine to split up their forces, and that was exactly what he was about to do.

  He looked up over the console. Luke had the map laid out and a large area circled in red. The initial goal was to break contact with the infected, move swiftly down the gravel roads until they lost them. Then Luke would take the convoy to a pre-determined rally point, which on the map was identified as a large parking lot near a trailhead. If by chance any of the vehicles were separated from the convoy, they would meet at the parking lot.

  The cupola’s viewing port, where the salvaged MK19 grenade launcher was now mounted, allowed in a view on all sides of the vehicle. It was still dark; the trucks were running with their lights on, as there were not enough night vision devices to go around. Gyles’s vehicle led the convoy, with two Humvees directly behind them, and the second MRAP behind those. As they moved past the trees, there were no signs of the infected along the shoulder of the roads. They were alone.

  When the truck slowed and turned west, Gyles moved to the front. Luke pointed at the map. “We’ll be coming up on the approach road soon.”

  Gyles lifted the handset. “All Reaper elements, this is Reaper Six. We’re coming into the lot. Circle the wagons and kill the engines for a listening stop.” He reached to the front and clipped the handset back to the console then watched through the windshield as the MRAP made a turn onto a narrow drive that quickly widened. The sun was rising and Gyles could see down the road. There was a pair of abandoned small cars near a national forest sign. Luke slowed as he drove past them. “Hikers,” he said. “This was a popular spot to leave your car when backpacking.”

  The road got wider ahead and leveled out into a large picnic area that overlooked a lake. Luke took the MRAP close then cut the wheel, forming a large arc until he spotted the tail vehicle. He pulled past it and stopped. The rest of the vehicles slowly did the same, facing out. Headlights were extinguished and engines turned off. Very quickly, the area was void of sound. Gyles took the radio again and hit the transmit button. “All Reaper elements, this is Reaper Six. Check in. Over.”

  He held the handset, listening to the all-clear from each vehicle before saying, “Get comfortable and hang tight. Let’s make sure we’re alone. Reaper Six out.”

  He re-clipped the radio to the console then moved back to the cupola. He unlatched the hatch and let it open before he rose up into damp morning air. A heavy bank of fog hung over the lake. The trees were thin here, and he could see at least fifty yards into the forest. Slowly, he turned his body and checked the entire area before dropping back into the hatch. Moving to the front, he looked at Luke. “Any word form Rose?” They had no open communications with the military from their vehicles, but the Chinook could communicate to the police equipment they had on board.

  Luke shook his head. “I’ll keep checking. If all went well, they should be finishing up their refueling operation about now.” He turned in his seat. “You sure about going to Belvoir?”

  Gyles shrugged. “I’m not sure about much of anything anymore. All of this has me questioning everything.”

  “Then go west,” Luke said.

  “I can’t—if the Third is still fighting, I have to get back to them.”

  “What about the others? The other soldiers?”

  “I’ll give them a choice. If they want to go west, they can,” Gyles said.

  “You know that isn’t a choice. They’ll go wherever you go.”

  Gyles rubbed his chin and looked down. “We’ll find out soon enough. Can your officers stand the watch while I talk to the troopers?”

  “We got it,” Luke said. He called back to Gyles as the man turned away. “Gyles, I’m going with you. And so is The Beast.”

  Gyles looked at him. “Why?”

  “I got people in North Carolina; I’m not ready to give up on them yet.”

  Gyles nodded and exited the back hatch to move to the center of the large circle. Weaver saw him and left the Humvee he was riding in near the back. Gyles waited for his friend to get close then said, “I’m going to Belvoir.”

  “Yeah, I thought you might.”

  Gyles chewed at his lip. “What about the troops? What do they want to do?”

  “It’s mixed, G-Man. We all got friends and family back at Stewart. But these kids—they got family all over the country. I think if you ask them to go with you, they will.”

  “I don’t want to ask them; I want them to volunteer.”

  Weaver smiled as he fished into his pocket and removed a can of
tobacco. He shoved a patch in his jaw and said, “Well, it’s hard to say then. They aren’t connected to these civilians the way they are to you, Sergeant.”

  Gyles smiled, hearing Weaver call him by his rank. He knew the conversation was changing. “This isn’t an order. I really need them to want to be on board, or to just go west with the others.”

  “Hell—we don’t know what’s west. We supposed to trust the word of some busted up guy and a mute chick? If it was up to me, boss, you’d just say to hell with Fort Belvoir and help get these people to safety.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Can’t… or won’t?”

  Gyles looked down and slowly slung his head left to right. “The rest of the company, the rest of the battalion might be at Belvoir slugging it out. Men we bled with in Iraq might be there.”

  “They might all be dead,” Weaver said. “You heard Erickson; he said take care of your people.”

  Gyles removed his helmet and ran his hand through his hair, clenching his eyes tight. He looked back at his friend, trying to keep his voice calm, even though he could feel the tightness in his chest pulling at him. “I just can’t do it, Weaver. I can’t just abandon them, not knowing.”

  “I know you can’t, boss. It’s shit like this why you got the platoon, and I’m still a squad leader.”

  “The platoon is gone,” Gyles said, his voice breaking.

  Weaver shook his head. “No, we’re still here. Come on, let’s get this over with; we’ve got places to be.”

  Gyles took a deep breath and looked at his men waiting near a vehicle. He pointed at his collar and made a lasso motion. Soon all seven of the surviving platoon members were moving toward him. No, he thought, all seven but one. He looked toward the waiting vehicles and then back to the faces of his men, then to Weaver. “Where is Specialist Rodriguez?”

  Before Weaver could answer, Mega sounded off with his booming voice. “Up in the MRAP, Sarnt.”

  Gyles shook his head and touched a finger to his ear like it was ringing. “Mega, you’ve really got to work on that.”

  The big man frowned and took a step back.

  “Why isn’t he out here?” Gyles asked then gave a stern point to the big soldier, cautioning him to watch his volume.

  Mega grinned, and in a hoarse whisper said, “That doctor wanted him to stay in the truck, said they are too important to be standing around outside where something could get at them.”

  Gyles turned to Weaver, then shook his head. “Well, maybe the doctor has a point,” Gyles said, knowing damn well he didn’t, but also not wanting to start a pissing contest in front of his men. He turned and looked back at the circle of vehicles. The police officers were now standing up in the turrets, looking out. He could see Luke in the cupola of the MRAP, standing behind the MK19. Gyles grinned when he noticed someone had tagged the big vehicle with the words “The Beast” in red paint above the Vines City Police Department logo. With a deep breath, he turned back to his men.

  “Listen, we’re breaking off here. The CH-47 has made a move of its own to refuel and travel to Hunter. The civilians will be moving west with the police and Guard. Fort Knox is the hope. If not, they’ll just keep going until they find someone.”

  Culver went to say something, and Gyles put up a hand. “I’m going to try and link back up with the battalion at Fort Belvoir. I’m not going to lie; I’ve been told they are getting their asses kicked up in D.C. That the division may even be gone by the time we get there.”

  “So, we go with you then, Sergeant,” Culver said, this time not being silenced.

  “It’s an option, but I won’t make any of you go. You need to decide what you think is best for you. I can’t guarantee that either of these are the best course right now.”

  “Well, hell, it’s a long enough drive to Fort Knox,” Mega grunted. “And there is a guy in Third Platoon that still owes me money.”

  Gyles looked at them. “Listen… grab your gear and meet me by The Beast, if you’re in. Otherwise, it’s been an honor serving with you. I wish you all the best of luck.” He turned and slowly walked back toward the MRAP. Howard was waiting for him when he got there. Rodriguez was standing just behind him. Gyles grinned. There was nothing the doctor could say to set him off. “What’s up, Doc?”

  “I heard this reckless plan to send the civilians to Fort Knox while the rest of you head off to your deaths in the city. That’s a negative. I have to get to Maryland; we still have a mission.”

  “Do what you want, Doc. Go west with the civvies or head out with us. Take one of those pickup trucks and go to Maryland. I’m not twisting any arms.”

  “If you go to Belvoir you’ll die.”

  “Probably,” Gyles said. He stepped aside as the first of his soldiers approached the MRAP and tied heavy packs to the roof.

  “And you’re taking all the soldiers too?” Howard scoffed. “Well, you can’t have Rodriguez.”

  Gyles grinned and looked at the specialist. “That’s your call. I gave everyone a choice.”

  “Well, nobody asked me,” Howard said, moving closer and puffing out his chest.

  Gyles’s fist clenched. “You don’t have an option. I gave the soldiers a choice. You’re a civilian. I suggest you get back to your ride before you lose your seat.”

  Howard turned and stomped away, moving back toward the second MRAP. Gyles looked at Rodriguez. He could see in the man’s eyes that he wanted to follow the doctor. “It’s okay, Rodriguez. Those people are going to need you; they’ll need a good medic.”

  “You sure, Sergeant?”

  Gyles dipped his chin and waved him off. He watched Rodriguez rush away to follow the doctor, then he turned back toward the MRAP and did a count. Of his nine soldiers, five had decided to go with him. He sighed. It was five more than he’d expected. They were Weaver’s boys from First Squad… Culver, Mega, Private O’Riley—a tall lanky farm boy from Iowa—Scott, a corporal who was overdue to make sergeant and was an expert grenadier from Philadelphia, and Sergeant Tucker, a hard-charging noncom from Jersey City. “I’m glad to have you all. Get your gear settled, and we’ll be rolling out.”

  At the front of the MRAP, Gyles saw that Luke was helping men secure gear to the sides as he said his goodbyes to the police officers. Moving close, Gyles said, “Any word from Rose?”

  Luke shook his head no. “Nothing, but it could just be the range of the radios.”

  Gyles set his jaw. “Okay, let the convoy roll out first, then we’ll turn and head for the Capital.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Day of Infection Plus Eleven, 1045 Hours

  Near Heritage, Virginia.

  Leaving the national forest was uneventful. The men were packed into the back of the MRAP, gear piled all around them. Gyles rode in the front with Luke, who refused to let anyone else drive. Looking back, he could see Weaver’s lower body. The sergeant had been swapping out with the others for time in the cupola; it gave them an opportunity to stretch their legs. They’d checked in with the other vehicles for the first couple hours until the signal faded as the convoy moved deeper into the Appalachians, and they themselves moved down and out of them.

  Luke knew the terrain and the roads. He kept them off the main interstate. Traveling on state highways and county roads would take longer, but the going was easier. They drove through small towns with burning buildings and smoking police cars. They saw no survivors and no infected. Once, Gyles thought he saw a man standing in the shade of a tree, but the figure didn’t move. If he was human, he didn’t want help. The MRAP suddenly stopped at the top of a hill. They were on a dirt road with wide yellow fields of prairie grass on both sides. On the horizon was the outline of a small town.

  “You see something?” Gyles asked.

  “No, gotta take a piss and get the cramps out,” Luke said. He turned back in his seat and said toward the turret. “How we looking out there?”

  “All clear,” Culver shouted back.

  Luke cl
unked his door open and stepped out into the daylight. Gyles pursed his lips and looked back into the crew compartment. “Let’s take ten here, boys.” He undid his harness and opened his own door, dropping outside. The air was hot and humid, but it felt good having left the eight-man fart box he was riding in. He moved out away from the vehicle, looking into the field. There was a wire fence just off the shoulder of the road, and beyond that the field stretched out over a hundred yards before ending at a tree line.

  Gyles tactically walked up the road and used the optics on his rifle to survey the town ahead. It was typical of others they’d passed. Several small homes on a narrow street. Luke had told him this was the outskirts of a larger city to the north of them. He also said there was a canine training center nearby, that he’d dropped a friend off a couple years ago. Gyles wondered if the place would be populated today. Fences and heavy walls like a kennel should be secure enough.

  He shook his head, not wanting to get distracted. He looked again toward the community ahead. It wasn’t a town after all, just a subdivision, a planned housing area like thousands of others that ringed cities across America. To his surprise, he spotted a man walking along the road, moving toward them. The man didn’t stagger; he stepped solidly, one foot in front of the other, like he was on an afternoon stroll.

  “Contact,” Culver shouted. “Twelve o’clock.”

  Gyles heard men shuffling and returning to the protection of the armor. Gyles stayed on the optic. The man was clean. He wore a light-blue collared dress shirt, khaki pants, and black shoes. No blood, no rips, no open wounds. “Hold your fire,” he called out to the gunner. It wasn’t a necessary order; the men knew their goal was to stay quiet on the road trip, and popping off an MK19 would be the exact opposite of that.

  The man drew closer and Gyles lowered his rifle. He felt someone move behind him, and he turned his head to see Luke standing beside him.

  “He’s infected, you know,” Luke said.