The Journal: Martial Law

by Deborah D. Moore

  “John, I need to do something, anything. All these bodies are giving me the creeps,” Sam admitted.

  “Why don’t you start moving the motorhomes about a mile east of here? Line them up nice and neat and not too close to each other. Hank will probably set camp even further.”

  “Sure. May I ask why?”

  “They’re useful and no reason to damage them when we torch the place,” John said flatly.

  Sam looked shocked. “We’re going to burn the compound down?”

  “Can you think of an easier way to get rid of eight-hundred possibly contaminated bodies?”

  ***

  Most everything in the kitchen tent was inedible, save for the MREs, canned goods, rice, and dried pasta.

  Vivian watched silently and intently while John and Sam prepared a dinner of canned chicken mixed with spaghetti sauce and pasta.

  That night, Vivian slept in Jonesy’s quarters in the coolness of the dehumidified air conditioning. John and Sam rolled their sleeping bags out in the command center to protect and monitor the lone survivor.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “While we appreciate your help, Ms. Jarrett, your physical strength is below par and you need to recuperate,” John stated bluntly. Sam had backed one of the motor homes up to the rear of the kitchen tent where they were loading MREs. John turned back to the chore at hand when she touched his arm.

  “John, please, call me Vivian,” she pleaded when they were interrupted by the sound of a vehicle approaching.

  “Keep loading,” he said to Sam. “That must be Hank. I’ll go meet him. I think you should come with me…Vivian.”

  ***

  “Commander Jarrett, it’s good to see you.” Hank shook her hand and looked at John. “You have a report for me?”

  “That I do. You know I don’t pull punches, so I think Vivian should be part of it, even though she might not like to hear my recommendations.” John didn’t look at her.

  They sat in the cool air of the command center, sipping hot black coffee, while John went over his findings with Hank. Vivian sat quietly, listening.

  “The count stands at eight hundred seventy-three fatalities and one survivor,” he said.

  “Two survivors,” Vivian corrected. “I found Jonesy’s cat.” Hank nodded and made a note.

  “I see you’ve moved most of the staff motorhomes outside of the one mile perimeter. I’m going to presume that’s part of your first-on-site recommendations?” Hank asked John.

  “As commander of this post, may I interrupt with my own suggestions?” Vivian asked in an attempt to take control of the discussion.

  “Of course, ma’am, I’m interested in what you have to say. However, I’m obligated to inform you that you are no longer in command here. I’ve had extensive communication with the Pentagon, and you will be reassigned once you’ve fully recovered,” Hank stated.

  “I see,” Vivian muttered.

  “Your input is still valuable, Vivian,” John said, “though we may not agree on everything.”

  “Let’s continue,” Hank said, pulling them back on track. “John, you’ve already moved most of the staff vehicles. What else?”

  “Sam is still loading foodstuff. I think our medic should comb over the remaining medical supplies here.”

  “Stop!” Vivian said standing. “Before you go on like I’m not here, you will hear me out. This has been under my command for the last six months, and it’s not easy to let it go. What I think needs to be done isn’t easy either. So to save the two of you men from tiptoeing around me, listen to me!”

  Hank nodded.

  “It’s obvious this post is lost, and to avert disease and other potential problems, we need to move quickly,” she said. “As John pointed out, there are a lot of useable supplies here. They need to be moved to a safe location and then we burn the place down.” She folded her arms across her ample chest and looked at John. “Is that what you were going to say?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” John struggled to suppress a snicker.

  “Hank,” Vivian asked, “do you have a semi-tractor as part of your fleet? I can’t see anything from this distance.”

  “Yes, and I’ll have my driver move this unit to a safer location. We have several heavy duty pickups that will have no difficulty moving the generator and fuel tanks,” Hank told her.

  “May I say something now?” John leaned back in amusement at seeing these two equals butt heads. They both turned to him in surprise. “Hank, I suggest we reset the command post at a location between the staff trailers we’ve already moved and where you’re setting up. With all the units in place, it will be easier for FEMA to replace tents and staff. I also think Commander Jarrett should oversee the move. FEMA might want to keep her right here and it should be how she feels will function best.”

  “Thank you,” Vivian said, squaring her shoulders.

  “Without any refugees right now, I have some tents to spare. We’ll set a couple up as your infirmary and another as the mess tent. The supplies we move will be returned to the appropriate location,” Hank offered, deferring to John’s silent insight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hank poured John two fingers of bourbon, and eyed him over his own glass. “That was a good call, John. Commander Jarrett will be much more compliant if she believes she will ultimately be retaining her command. How did you know?”

  “By watching her since she woke. Body language says a great deal. She’s a strong woman and has handled the stress and strain of being responsible for many. It won’t be easy for her to give up that position.”

  Much like Allex, John thought, and pushed it away.

  “Besides,” he added, “high command really may give her the post back. The outbreak wasn’t her fault so they shouldn’t hold that against her.”

  “True, FEMA is stretched really thin and good leaders are hard to come by.” Hank got up and looked out the window of his own command center. “We might be here for a couple of weeks. Then we’re being sent out west to help the recovery there.” He paused a moment, then said, “I meant what I said that good leaders are hard to come by. When we leave here, I’d like you to be my second in command.”

  John set his glass down. “My six months’ conscription is almost up and I haven’t yet agreed to another six.”

  “I know.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “I know. I also know you’re a good leader and a man of integrity. You’ve helped save many lives these past several months. This work fits you,” Hank pressed.

  John sighed. “I know.”

  ***

  Commander Vivian Jarrett walked through her recently relocated command center, righting chairs, closing drawers, and picking up papers from the floor. It was so quiet she was startled when the front door opened and John entered.

  “The guys got the generator hooked up. It went much quicker once they found the propane tank was still on a mobile trolley. You can start turning things on any time you want,” he informed her.

  “Thank you, John. Thank you for…everything. This has been a difficult time for me and you’ve made it a bit easier,” she said, touching his arm.

  He nodded and left. For some reason he was starting to feel uncomfortable when he was alone with her.

  ***

  John found the commander sitting quietly in his trailer reading reports.

  “Hank, I want to be up front with you about something.”

  Hank set his papers down and waited for John to continue.

  “Before you got here and before I found her, I found Vivian’s weapons locker. I took one of the AR15s for our use,” John confessed. “We don’t have anything that high powered, and I think we should. I don’t think they’re going to need it since the new team will likely bring their own. I didn’t want to take something without you knowing.”
<
br />   “I appreciate the honesty, John. And I think you’re right. We’ve done well with the limited arms we have, but we sure are lacking.”

  “I also took a 9mm Beretta off one of the corpses to replace the one FEMA took from me last August.”

  “I understand, John.” Hank leaned back in his chair, knowing this was exactly why he wanted to keep John. The man was honest to a fault.

  ***

  “Hank,” Vivian probed, “tell me about John. He’s quiet, yet I sense something smoldering beneath the surface.”

  The two commanders were having a late supper in Hank’s quarters, discussing the next day’s event of burning the post. All salvageable equipment, firearms, food and supplies had been moved out and were housed in several vacant refugee tents.

  “There’s not much to tell,” Hank replied. “John’s been with me for almost five months, straight from his orientation. He’s a good man, honorable, and hardworking. I know there’s someone at home he wants to get back to when his six months are up.”

  “Six months? He’s conscripted? He has so much freedom and authority for someone forced into service,” Vivian said. “What did he do?”

  “He got caught with a gun when he went grocery shopping and was thrown into a detention center.”

  “That’s it?”

  “We are under martial law,” Hank reminded her.

  “True. Wait, I see him wearing a handgun and carrying a rifle. Isn’t that against the rules?”

  “John is a gunsmith by hobby. I can’t very well let him maintain our guns and not trust him with his own,” he said. “Besides, for the work we’ve been doing, he needs a weapon. You haven’t had to deal with the gators and snakes like we have. I wouldn’t ask anyone to do this work without being able to defend themselves.”

  “So, he’s got a wife back home?” Vivian pushed, trying hard to be nonchalant.

  “I don’t know. He has mentioned the name Alex before. I don’t know who that is. John is a very private man and the men say he also has a temper.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she laughed. “By the way, where is my motorhome? I don’t feel comfortable being at the new post alone and I need some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

  “We wouldn’t leave you here alone, Vivian. We will stay until a new crew is sent. Your unit is on the outer edge. I’ll walk you there.”

  ***

  The morning broke with its usual muted sunshine, a reminder of the ever circling ash cloud, though the current temperature was warmer than the rest of the nation was experiencing. The atmosphere of the encampment bordered on excitement. The burning of the death camp was high in everyone’s mind, almost holiday-like in nature.

  “I heard you were in charge of the big burn today,” Kevin said, catching up to John in the mess tent. John had been avoiding everyone while he mentally laid out the demolition.

  “Would you like to be part of it, Kevin? I need a couple of men I can depend on.”

  “Oh, yes! Anything I can do I will, you know me, John.” The idea he could be part of the momentous task instantly put Kevin on a high. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Be at the command center at ten o’clock for a briefing,” John instructed, and left to collect the rest of the team.

  Haley was sitting at a table by herself, sulking. John sat down across from her.

  “What’s the matter, Haley?”

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” she pouted.

  John chuckled. “I’ve been avoiding everybody. Can you drive?”

  “Of course I can drive. I’m twenty-two, John, not twelve.”

  “Lose the attitude, Haley.” Her facial expressions shifted like sand at high tide. “How would you like to be part of my team today?”

  Her eyes brightened. “I hear you’re going to burn down the other camp sometime today.”

  “Yes, and I need a couple of good drivers to extract the other crew members. Do you think you could do that?”

  She nodded vigorously. Anything to be closer to you, she thought.

  “Great. Be at the command center for a briefing at ten o’clock.”

  ***

  “As our explosives expert, John Tiggs will be in charge of this operation,” Hank said to the group of men and women before him. “Would you explain what you plan on doing, John?”

  “It’s simple. We’re going to make an X of gasoline crossing through the center of the compound, then splash the tents on the outer perimeter with several more gallons. Three of you will set Molotov cocktails here, here, and here,” John said, indicating the locations on a crude map he had drawn, “high on a post I’ve already put up. At my signal, a single gunshot, you will light the wick and get the hell out of there. There will be three vehicles waiting to get you clear. As soon as I see that all three vehicles are at a safe distance, I will shoot the jars holding the flames so it can drop into the gas.”

  “That’s it?” Vivian asked.

  “I said it was simple. The objective is to burn it down, not blow it up.”

  “Where will you shoot from?” Hank asked, although he and John had already discussed the best vantage points.

  “I’ll be in my own vehicle, a half mile out, with a clear sight to all three incendiary devices.”

  “Your shooting is accurate that far away?” Vivian asked doubtfully.

  John raised one gray eyebrow and turned away, not answering her question. He knew he could hit the jars from a mile out, with the right rifle, which he had already procured. “Let’s get into position. I want to be done by one o’clock.” He looked over the group and thought it a good team. “Haley, Maryanne, and Bill, you three are the drivers. It’s your responsibility to get your two men to safety. Harris, Donnie, and Terry, you get to man the gas. When you’re done, immediately get to your designated truck. Kevin, Sam, and Carl, you three will set the devices and light them at my signal and then get to your designated truck. You are all responsible for each other. I don’t want any one hurt or left behind, is that clear?”

  ***

  At twelve forty-five, with the three trucks and nine people behind the safety line, John made three perfect shots, igniting the funeral pyre.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The fire raged for two days. Even at a distance of five miles, the stench of burning canvas, plastic, and bodies kept most everyone indoors. On the fourth day, a fortuitous rain doused the remaining embers. The storm, however, lasted for three days.

  “After being cooped up for a week, everyone is getting restless and starting to bicker,” Hank said to John and Vivian over a late night drink in John’s motorhome. “We need something to distract them. Any suggestions?”

  “Bingo?” Vivian said. Both Hank and John raised their eyebrows. “It was only a suggestion, and something everyone can be part of.”

  John took a sip of his bourbon, the ice tinkling against the side of the glass. Ice was at a premium and he allowed himself only one cube. “How about a barbeque?”

  “What do you suggest we grill, MRE burgers?”

  “To get away from the smoke and smell, I’ve been teaching Haley to shoot. My location of choice is eight miles south of here.”

  “Teaching her to shoot? She’s only a child, John,” Vivian protested.

  “She’s twenty-two, not a child, though even a child should know how to handle a gun these days. Anyway, I’ve spotted feral hogs in the area. If I take down one or two, we can have a pig roast. Not only do we get fresh meat, it gives us all something to do and will distract everyone from their boredom.”

  ***

  Haley raked the paths between the various tents. Although they didn’t really need it, it gave her something to do, and it gave her time to daydream. John was teaching her how to handle handguns and rifles. She could still feel his arms around her, his hands covering hers, his chest pressed agai
nst her back. She leaned against the rake and sighed.

  “Haley?” John said.

  She snapped out of her fantasy.

  “That must have been a really nice thought. You were grinning ear to ear!” he teased her.

  She smiled slyly. “Oh, it was.”

  “How would you like to go shooting today? You’ve been doing really well and I thought it’s time for you to have some live practice.”

  “Like what?”

  “My mission today is to take down a couple of those wild boars we’ve seen. I think the hunt would be good practice for you. You game?”

  “Of course!” Anything to be alone with you.

  ***

  “Haley, pay attention,” John said gruffly. He had set them up for an hour of practice before moving to the area where he had seen the wild pigs, and it was as if she had forgotten how to even hold a gun.

  “I’m sorry, John. I’ll do better.” She had intentionally been clumsy so he would put his arms around her and guide her hands again, and instead he’d yelled at her. She sniffled and tucked the rifle into her shoulder like he taught her, took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and squeezed the trigger. The tin can disappeared from the rock he had set it on.

  “That’s my girl!” She beamed with pride. “Now, let’s go find some dinner.”

  ***

  John parked the truck in a clearing and they hiked into an area where he had seen some trails. The animals had very sensitive noses and he didn’t want his prey to smell the exhaust from the diesel truck. While he would have preferred to hunt from a tree blind, the dense brambles concealed them well enough, though offered no protection.