by Josh Hilden
Lisa climbed into “Wolverine One” watching as Pat and his crew reassembled the barricade putting the last chunk, a section of semi-trailer, into place just as the dead began to swarm. They’d done it, now they just had to make it off of the bridge.
Below them the waters of Lakes Michigan and Huron mingled in the straits. The last time that Lisa crossed “Big Mac” had been right after her return from Afghanistan. She and Sandy decided to take a trip to White Harbor and spend some time in Pa’s old cabin. It had been wonderful trip. She’d not been able to think of a better way to start her new civilian life. Now she was crossing the bridge again. She hoped there would be any life at all when the journey was finished.
11
9:00am EST
Every gun in the caravan faced forward as the armored Bradley M-2 Infantry Fighting Vehicle approached from the northern end of the bridge. The olive drab vehicle had the flags of both the United States and the State of Michigan painted on its hull.
“Shit, boss lady” Rich said from the driver seat of the bus. Ahead of the bus were four scouts on motorcycles and one of the Hummers. The Bradley, if it were fully armed, would be able to mow through the Caravan in less than five minutes.
“Play it cool Rich. If these guys are Guardsmen that have not abandoned their post, things might be OK.” She hoped she sounded confident, because the idea of tangling with bandits using Army gear made her nervous.
The Caravan and the Bradley came to full stop at almost the same time. The top hatch of the Bradley opened, and a figure stuck its head out and beckoned someone to come forward from the Wolverines side. Lisa sighed and reached for the backpack that she carried through all of Afghanistan and the rise of the dead. She dug inside for something that she thought she would never need again. Nobody saw it, but Sam heard the sounds of metal clanging.
“What are you doing Doc?” He asked when she rose and headed for the door.
“We need to talk with them Sam, if they are friendlies it’s the best course of action.”
“And if they are hostile?” He asked.
“Then we might all be fucked regardless of what we do.” She walked past him and stepped out onto the concrete roadbed of the bridge. She walked quickly toward the Bradley, and was surprised when she saw the figure in the armored vehicle dismount and start toward her. It appeared that it was a young man in Army BDU’s. As she got closer she saw Corporal’s chevrons on his sleeves. He looked painfully young. He reminded her of all the young soldiers she had known overseas.
“This is a restricted area, you are ordered to turn around and return to the southern end of the bridge.” He looked closely at her and then continued in an accusatory tone, “I would also like to know what makes you think that you can appropriate property belonging to the Michigan National Guard?” He indicated the Hummers and the tanker truck.
Lisa took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. She never expected to use this voice again. “I am Major Lisa Sutton, United States Army.” The promotion from Captain had been for pay purposes when she had mustered into the reserves, but the Golden Oak Leaf still counted so she decided to use the rank she never felt she’d earned.
Without thinking the young Corporal stood at something close to attention, before remembering that all he had was her word. “Ma’am I did not know.” He said and then looked even more closely at her civilian haircut and clothing. But Lisa was one step ahead of him. She pulled her dog tags off her neck and her military ID out of her pocket.
“MA’AM!” He barked and stood full attention and delivered a salute that the meanest boot camp drill instructor couldn’t have found fault with.
“At ease Corporal…” she let it hang for him to answer.
“Hacker Ma’am, Corporal Leonard Hacker 3rd Michigan Mechanized Infantry Battalion.” She could hear relief in his voice. It made her hear sink that she would have to deflate him a bit.
“What’s the status here Corporal, who is in charge?” She asked slinging her Dog Tags back into her shirt and returning her ID to her pocket.
The young man hesitated, and she knew that she was in for some bad news. “We were supposed to keep both ends of the bridge blockaded, and control the traffic that we allowed to cross. We lost contact with Lansing on the third night and with Escanaba and all other units on the fifth. On the morning of the sixth day we heard them coming.” A glazed shocked look filled his face.
“There were thousands of them and they were heading right for the south end of the bridge.” His voice became robotic as he continued to talk, and she knew that the story was going to be bad. “All but one company was pulled back to the south end to contain the swarm. When it was over less than 20 people were left alive down there. They used the vehicles to reinforce the barricade, left some monitoring equipment down there, and came back up here to reinforce. Since then we’ve been low on ammo, and we have been being picked off one at a time. A lot of the guys have deserted, including Captain Minnelli. There are 27 of us left. Lt. Capshaw is in charge. He’s just a Butter Bar LT ma’am,” Lisa mentally translated that to second lieutenant fresh out of either officer training or the academy at West Point, “but he’s smart and he has made sure that the rest of us have stayed together and safe.” He sounded proud of the Lieutenant, and Lisa knew that if a noncom liked their officer he or she might be worth getting to know.
“OK Corporal, take me to your commanding officer.” She said, and the young man saluted and grinned before running back to the Bradley and yelling out for the Caravan to follow them.
12
9:45am EST
Major Lisa Sutton figured that if she was going to throw her rank out there, she might as well accept that she was still a soldier. She examined the sight that greeted them as they reached the end of the bridge. She thought that for such a small unit, barely two squads worth of troops, they were well dug in on a ridge near the northern end of the bridge. The barricade at that end was even more formidable and secure than the one at the southern end. It appeared that every field of fire, in all directions, was well plotted and marked. As long as their ammunition held out, this unit could hold the position until doomsday.
As Wolverine One pulled up, a tall young African American man with rich mahogany skin dressed in Army BDU’s and with gold bars on his collar walked out to meet them. He had an M-4 Carbine slung over his shoulder, and what looked like a two foot crow bar strapped to his belt. He raised his hand to indicate for them to halt. When Lisa stepped out of the bus, with Sam and Rich flanking her, the Lieutenant stood to attention and saluted.
“At ease Lieutenant,” She said and surveyed the scene. She was provisionally encouraged by the order and discipline she saw.
“Major, welcome to Mackinaw Fire Base North, I am Lieutenant Brian Capshaw acting CO.” He looked at the size of the Wolverine Caravan and seemed impressed. “Ma’am, if you could have your people stay within the marked areas,” he indicated the white paint on the ground “we have heavily mined the unmarked areas.”
Lisa raised her eyebrow with respect and then relayed the message to the others. Apparently the young lieutenant knew his business. She followed him across the marked path and into the back of a command vehicle that had been camouflaged in the tree line near the bridge. The inside of the converted one ton was loaded with electronics and accompanying communications and sensor equipment, everything but the main radio and satellite uplink stations were unmanned. At the manned stations, people in civilian garb were writing down whatever they happened to be listening to at lightning speed.
“Ma’am, with so few troops left, I have enlisted the aid of civilians that have joined us. Anyone that has any military experience or hunting skill has been added to the fighting ranks, and everyone else has been tasked with covering essential jobs.” He hesitated and then went on, the hesitation was almost imperceptible but Lisa had caught it. It relieved her some to know that this young man was not overflowing with confidence, despite that he’d done well. “We have been debati
ng whether or not to strike out on our own, Ma’am. Including the civilians, there are 76 adults and 23 children holed up here. I had begun to believe that our best chance would be to find an isolated community and set up there until things eased up.” His shoulders slumped a little and he added, “If they ever do.”
She felt real sympathy for the man. She’d had a task since this all started. She and the other Wolverines were focused on the perceived sanctuary of White Harbor. These young soldiers watched all of their comrades die at the hands of the dead, and then been left hanging in the wind, forever awaiting orders that were never going to come. She thought to herself and realized she could not leave these people here, especially if her crazy dreams were even close to be correct. Whatever or whoever was coming from the south would roll over this position and destroy everyone here.
She took a deep breath and felt like she was going to throw up. She’d already accepted the leadership of the Wolverines. But the Wolverines were a group of civilians. If she did what she was contemplating, then she was sticking her head back into the same inferno that she thought she’d left forever in central Asia.
“Lt. Capshaw,” she said in the officer’s voice that she’d tried so hard to break from her repertoire. The young man stiffened to attention, “I now relieve you as acting commanding officer of the 3rd Michigan Mechanized Battalion.” She thought quickly, if she was going to do this she wanted to keep things as linear as possible, “You and your people are now part of the 1st Michigan Emergency Response Battalion, the Wolverines.” Saying that felt like biting on tin foil to Lisa.
He looked at her. For the first time a grin spread across his face, and she would have sworn he was no more than 17. “Yes Ma’am,” he said saluting.
“Furthermore, I am promoting you to Captain and placing you in charge of the Infantry troop.” She smiled, “Congratulations, Captain Capshaw.”
He looked like somebody had hit him in the face with a brick. Outside one of the troops who’d been listening cheered, and ran off to tell the others that they were still part of the Army and that the LT. had been promoted. Going to have to give Rich and Sam commensurate ranks, with Sam in charge of the Caravan and the Civilians, and Rich running the scouts just to keep everything organized. She thought to herself, Organization and structure are going to be the bedrock we rebuild on.
“Captain Capshaw, my first order to you is to get your people ready to move out. We have a destination we are trying to reach. You and your people have done an admirable job here, but the first round of this war is over and we lost.” She allowed him to see that she was as upset about that as he was, “But the next round hasn’t even begun yet.”
Capshaw saluted and headed outside. In a few seconds she heard him giving orders, and then the sounds of the people at Mackinaw Fire Base North preparing to leave. She settled down at one of the desks and began reading what the operators were recording. Her job had just been made that much harder, but she knew that she had done the right thing.
Still wish I wasn’t flying by the seat of my fucking pants, she thought to herself.
The reports she was reading were horrifying, six separate units of the National Guard in the Lower Peninsula reported going toe to toe with a veritable Army of the dead being lead and controlled by the living. The reports were sketchy and brief as each unit was overrun by the slouching and moaning wave of dead humanity.
These reports seemed to be corroborated by the signals from amateur radio operators who observed the actions of the demonic force. It was a confused mess, and the reports indicated the group was only moving as fast as the slowest shambling abomination, but they also agreed on the projected destination of the nightmare … The Mackinaw Bridge.
Lisa looked out at the majestic structure spanning the straits. There was no way they would be able to sufficiently barricade and garrison the bridge. Something else was going to have to be done to secure their back door. She had an idea but nobody was going to be happy about it.
13
Twenty Miles outside the White Harbor Defensive Perimeter
November 7, 2012 AD (Day Twenty One)
10:25pm EST
The snow that had been threatening to fall since Halloween finally started falling near dusk. The temperature was hovering right around the freezing mark, and the snow was coming down in a steady shower. Without any meteorologists to tell them what the weather was going to be like, the Wolverines had taken up the topic and run with it over the last few weeks. There was a betting pool on every aspect of the weather, and the current issue was how much accumulation they would get before it stopped. The current odd on favorite was six inches.
The 1st Michigan Emergency Response Battalion decided to encamp outside what the Scouts identified as the White Harbor Defensive Perimeter and make their approach and parlay in the morning. The expanse of Interstate 75 through the Upper Peninsula was barren when compared to the traffic jams and impassible pileups strewn across the Lower Peninsula, but Lisa had decided that the old tactic was the best.
They’d shadowed the concrete river via secondary streets and access routes, hopping from small town to small town along the way salvaging what they needed in each hamlet. They’d added more weapons, ammunition, and food to their stores. They’d also kept out a sharp eye for the raw materials needed in the crafting of “Fangs”. Now they had enough for everyone over the age of 15 to wear one on their hip.
Pat Rowland found an abandoned utility van outside of a little town called Harpersburg and converted it into a mobile shop for the crafting of the bladed weapons. They also picked up half a dozen survivors, and seen the signs of hundreds more that were too afraid to approach the heavily armed troops. Also in Harpersburg, they found an oversized military surplus and hunting store that had served the hunters and survivalists in the days before the Rising, and looted enough to make them look like real soldiers.
Three days before, they began to intercept the radio traffic emanating from White Harbor. The people in White Harbor used a basic system of code phrases, but newly promoted Captain Richard “Rich” Paulson was able to crack it easily.
“They seem to have turned the town itself into a fortress and have reinforced the larger homesteads outside the town. From the sound of things, they have been chewing through the local Dead population.” He looked up from his notes at Captain Capshaw, Captain Sims, and Major Sutton. Also in attendance was Nancy Harrison, who was acting as the civilian representative in the command structure on top of her duties as unit Quartermaster.
“Do they know we are out here?” Capshaw asked.
“Not yet, but they have hunting parties out wide intercepting groups of the dead. It seems that keeping their town a going concern has kind of bitten them in the ass.” He laughed at his own joke, and then continued, “Most of the free roaming dead have been drawn toward them. They are trying to stop them before they cluster around the town or one of the Homesteads and cause some real damage.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Sam said, “I had the same idea in Ann Arbor, but our orders were to hold the barricades. When I suggested that we send out teams to engage the Dead I was ordered not to.” The bitterness saturated his voice. It was not a well-kept secret that he blamed himself for a lot of what happened in Ann Arbor in general and at the University in particular.
“We were in the middle of a giant spread of urban sprawl, and the panicked living population was doing more damage than the dead, Sam.” Lisa said looking over at the man who’d been her good right arm since the beginning. “It was not your fault, or if it was then it’s just as much my fault as yours. I was in charge of the hospital at the end.” She shot him a hard look that dared him to contradict her but he said nothing.
“The real question is, will they let us in?” Capshaw said. “I mean they have to be stretched thin, and I’m sure the idea of letting a heavily armed caravan of outsiders in might not seem like the smartest thing that they could do.”
“I think we shouldn’t fuck aroun
d,” Rich said, “We should just ride right up to the town’s front gate. I shit you not Major, they have a gate and a damn wall. It’s like something out of the fucking Middle Ages.” He looked from face to face, but was unable to tell if they were on his side or not.
“There is another option.” Nancy said speaking up for the first time.
“We have already decided that crossing at Sault Saint Marie into Canada is not viable. You think it’s cold here, just think of what it’s like in Canuck Land right now.” Rich said rolling his eyes.
“I was not going to suggest Canada, and besides, that was an idea that the civilians wanted me to broach. There is a military base near here that we could try.” She looked right at Lisa as she suggested it.