Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation

by Scott, Joshua Jared

  “Jacob.” He looked at me. “You are highly skilled at organization and defense.”

  This was true. It was a result of being mildly obsessive-compulsive and possessing a deep rooted disdain for chaos.

  “You will have command of the forward base, or bases as it might be, utilizing the militia from the Black Hills. We’ll go ahead and establish those, leaving the settlements as a fall back point. Setting them up will be your first task. The Yellowstone forces, which are more familiar with the area, will take up a position several miles in advance of you. They are going to act as a screen while we determine what the enemy is planning. That will also allow Jacob’s men to act as reserves.”

  Mary shifted uncomfortably, but I’d already been informed that my team would be secondary. While Briggs was a lot younger than me, and nowhere as charming, the man had years of combat experience in both Iraq and Afghanistan. He was better suited for leading the offensive, even if my daughter preferred I do it.

  “Can’t see them with the planes, not where they are supposed to be anyway.” That was Kimberly, one of the senior pilots in Yellowstone. “I don’t know how much we can help with telling you what they’re doing, other than about their scouts who are running around in the open areas.”

  “You won’t have any trouble once we get the new heat sensing equipment in place.”

  Technology is a wonderful thing.

  “It came in the last air drop,” continued the captain, “and it will be installed within a few days. You’ll also receive instructions and training on the proper use.”

  I raised a hand, but didn’t wait to be acknowledged. “I’m going to need a few who’ve been living here to show my guys around. You’re right that we don’t know the area as well as the locals, and that’s something we need to change.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. Now, rules of engagement…”

  “We kill them,” declared Mary. “No prisoners.”

  Briggs frowned. “There are rules…”

  “None of which apply,” I said, also interrupting. “The law in the Black Hills is that anyone wearing one of those jackets is to be shot on sight, and that policy will be enforced by everyone I bring over. There will be no half measures.”

  The raiders consistently wore heavy denim with distinctive patches sewn on the back. Only the prophet stood out, and that was because he favored black leather.

  “They won’t surrender,” I added. “Not a one has ever given up, that we know of. They don’t leave any of their victims alive either. We are talking about a very single minded, fanatical group. The raiders will run away if they’re losing, but that’s the best we can hope for.”

  There were plenty of nods at this.

  “And we have nowhere to put them if they did surrender,” I finished.

  “Valid concerns,” conceded the captain. “But if the opportunity arises, take prisoners. They may provide useful information.”

  Mary looked as if she was going to say something, but I squeezed her arm. Torturing a few to make them talk was something to consider, and by torture I mean just that. Briggs would likely disagree with my methods, but he didn’t have to know. Yes, taking prisoners might be acceptable.

  The group meeting lasted only a few more minutes. It had been arranged to discuss general strategy so the residents of Yellowstone knew and understood that concrete actions were being taken to keep them safe and to allow for any input or ideas. The actual planning would be done behind the scenes.

  * * *

  “Is there a reason the girl is here?”

  “I’ll have you know that I am not a girl,” snapped Mary.

  “Yes, you are,” said Dale.

  Tara nodded.

  “You are, Mary.” I looked her up and down. “It’s pretty obvious.”

  “You’re all being mean.” She sounded quite annoyed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  The twins looked at each other, then at her. I don’t think they were grasping her point, which did nothing to improve her mood.

  “Captain, Mary is basically an assistant. She keeps notes, writes out orders for me, relays instructions, that sort of thing. Since she is in the middle of everything, she gets to stay. Saves me the trouble of telling her later.”

  He nodded slowly and glanced at the twins before giving the slightest of shrugs. The pair really should not have been present, but Briana told them to never let me out of their sight. The siblings, loyal to the core, would not permit me to countermand my wife.

  “My own XO, Lieutenant Gikas.” He gestured at the young man standing to his left. “Now to business. This flat stretch provides easy access both to the park as a whole and to the portion of Idaho where the raiders are lurking.”

  I glanced at the large topographical map lying atop the table. “You can get through in other places, a few of which have roads.”

  “Yes, but those would result in a longer route to the Yellowstone settlements and are easier to obstruct or guard.”

  “So, we put a forward base in this centrally located and harder to defend spot. Lacking any better options, they will likely decide to come right for us. Makes sense.” I paused. “We should go ahead and fortify the airstrips your planes have been using, maybe spread them out more too. The ones in the Black Hills are far enough out of the way that I’m not worried about them getting attacked.”

  “That’s being worked on already,” remarked Briggs. “We want the birds close enough to provide support. Unfortunately, there aren’t that many runways or suitable stretches of road available.”

  “I’ll send in more fuel too, by truck. That’ll come through the northern route. I know you’ve been running short, and the tanks at Ellsworth and around Rapid City are still full.”

  The lieutenant made some notes. “How many pilots can you provide?”

  I thought about that for a few seconds.

  “Ronnie – that’s our senior helicopter guy – stays at home, along with most of our other helicopter pilots. We use them to move people and gear between the valleys and to respond to any threats or emergencies. I also want them to keep practicing with the Cobras and Pave Hawks. I will bring Xavier though. He’s licensed for both fixed-wing and choppers. The man can stay with me at the forward base. I’ll have him bring a helicopter too, regular kind, so you don’t have to worry about me commandeering one of yours. Actually, he’s gonna be the only pilot. The others will take over the patrols of Wyoming and surrounding area.”

  “That would free up all the Yellowstone people,” said Briggs, “but we may need them at some point.”

  I shrugged. “Consider them reserves. They can be here in a few hours if need be.”

  “We will require the attack helicopters too,” commented Gikas.

  “Not yet,” I said, slowly. “With the prophet keeping his people in the woods, it’s hard enough to make use of the civilian craft. There’s no reason to let him know what we have or how many, and if they are necessary, they too can be in Yellowstone in just a few hours.”

  “Yeah, Lieutenant, no trying to steal our helicopters.” Mary gave him a practiced glare, one she learned from Lizzy.

  “I’ll set up a large fuel dump at the airstrip in Montana where our pilots sometimes meet. We can pick a few other spots too. If they can refuel in several places, the effective range will go way up, and we can place them even closer to cut down on response time.”

  “We can decide on the locations later,” said the captain. “What about your militia?”

  “I’ll go back and fetch them after we settle on where I’m building the base, in case I need to bring any particular supplies. The Black Hills aren’t completely fortified yet, so I have to leave a fair number behind to oversee the work.”

  “And keep zombies out,” added Mary.

  “That as well.” I tried not to sigh. “We’re seeing more each day. So far it’s been manageable, and I’m not overly worried. They can’t break into our valley, but I want them kept out of the Black Hi
lls altogether so we’re free to move about. Anyway, I’m going to bring around seventy people, and, for the most part, these will be among the best I have. A few of the most experienced have to be left behind, along with the soldiers you assigned us way back when. That should be sufficient to keep our home safe. Worse case, they can hold the line while we all fall back to the Black Hills, should Yellowstone be overrun.”

  “I don’t see that happening,” argued Captain Briggs.

  “You’re probably right, but Salt Lake City and the Ranching Collective thought the same too, once upon a time.”

  “And they had to run away,” concluded Mary. “We know. We were there, and we ran away with them, as fast as our legs could carry us.”

  “You aren’t outgunned this time,” said the lieutenant. “Before, you were fighting with rifles and pistols with next to no heavy weapons. That has been remedied.”

  “We will be outnumbered though,” I pointed out, “and you can’t say what weapons they might have found in the meantime, might be as good as what we got.”

  Neither soldier tried to deny this.

  I rubbed my eyes with one hand. My allergies had been bothering me, and being in the forest was not helping. “I’ll have seventy people, all of whom know what they are doing. Each will have a M-16, some with attached grenade launchers. I’ll bring in several heavy machine guns too. The twins here will head up my sniper team. In addition to the M-16s, everyone will have a sniper rifle as well.”

  “We like to shoot people when they aren’t looking,” explained Mary. “We practice that way more than normal fighting.”

  “There are times when it pays to be sneaky,” admitted the captain.

  “In some of the battles we had, way back when, we found that a handful of snipers hiding in the rear or off to the side really helped.” Personally, I love snipers. “Since it worked so well, we made sure everyone in the militia was taught to shoot that way. Not everyone can stare through a scope and watch as their bullet kills another person…”

  “Most can’t.” Mary rolled her eyes. “Weenies.”

  “It works against zombies too, and most can drop them without it causing too much mental anguish. The people I’m bringing will be ones I know or think can kill real people, if they have to, but a lot have never been in this sort of fight before.”

  “It’s the best we can do,” said the captain. “How long do you think it will take to get them organized and over here?”

  I leaned up against the wall. “If you need them right away, I can spend a day driving home, a day getting sorted, and be back the following afternoon. If you prefer, I can take a little longer and gather up the aviation fuel and anything else you may need and cart it over all at once. We could set up the refueling stations on the way as well, if there’s time.”

  “A week or two shouldn’t matter. With snow on the ground, here and there, and the raiders still gathering their forces, I think it’ll be a while before they move. Spend tomorrow getting a feel for the area where I want the forward camp constructed. Then, you can head back.”

  * * *

  The spot in question was near the western edge of the park, close to where it brushed up against the Targhee National Forest. While the raiders couldn’t simply drive into the heart of Yellowstone from that location – there were no roads – they could head either north or south to get around us, but I doubted they would do so. The prophet was not an idiot, and he had to know, or suspect, that we’d secure any secondary routes. In fact, we already had sentries keeping watch, and the bridges and roads were mined. We could destroy them whenever we chose, along with anyone unfortunate enough to be using them at the time.

  The plan was solid. They were going to come at us here, likely on dirt bikes, which could easily handle the terrain, with a variety of four wheel drive vehicles to carry supplies. This would also have the effect of keeping the raiders largely out of sight. It’s easy to watch the highways. They are unobstructed, readily visible ribbons that naturally draw the eye of anyone flying overhead. The wilderness, on the other hand, seems to blend. A bright red truck driving across a meadow might be spotted, but men moving slowly, wearing drab colors could be overlooked. They would do whatever necessary to offset the advantage our aircraft held. Yes, it would almost definitely be right here.

  “What do you think?”

  Mary pointed at a nearby rise. “I say we put the camp there. We’ll have the high ground.”

  “Too many trees. Our vision would be limited. Try again.”

  Mary scowled but didn’t say anything at first, instead marching a quarter mile west before stopping.

  “What about that one?”

  The mound of earth in question wasn’t as tall as the previous choice, but it was surrounded by mostly open ground, going out at least a hundred yards.

  “Minimal cover, but anyone up there should have a good line of sight in all directions. Dale, run on over and take a look. Make sure it has whatever we need.”

  He did so without comment.

  “Those two are pretty quiet,” observed Lieutenant Gikas. He had accompanied us so he could inform the captain and others in Yellowstone’s leadership where we were going to set up the base and to issue his own veto if we made a poor choice.

  “They tend to be,” I replied.

  “Are they as good a shot as people say?”

  “Hell, yes!” My daughter was nodding vigorously.

  “Mary, mind you language.”

  She gave me a look and giggled. So much for parental discipline.

  Lifting her radio, she waved at Dale who was by then standing atop the hillock. “When I wave again, shoot the water bottle.”

  Mary swallowed the last few gulps before setting it on the ground and walking off.

  “He’s about six hundred yards away,” pointed out Gikas.

  “That little?” Mary stepped forward, to stand approximately four feet from the bottle.

  “I don’t think…”

  She waved, and a bullet struck the target dead center, sending it spinning.

  “Now, both of you tell me if that does or does not deserve a ‘Hell, yes!’.”

  The lieutenant shook his head. “I know you’ve been struggling to stay alive for more than three years now, but, honestly, there are safer ways to demonstrate skill.”

  “Tara,” I asked, “was Mary in any danger?”

  “No.”

  “See,” declared the teenager, “they really are super good. They can hit anything at three hundred yards with open sights, and they hit zombies in the head with a scope at more than a thousand, consistently.”

  “Really?” Gikas turned to regard Tara, then me.

  “It’s true. Like one of my friends said, way back when we first met them, they are Olympic caliber and definitely among the best ever.”

  “My dad here isn’t nearly as good,” added Mary, “but he has killed enough zombies and raiders that I don’t feel the need to run away from home or to die from embarrassment.”

  I would ask Briana to speak with her, but their relationship was like that of sisters. My sweetie would side with the twerp.

  “I’m solid up to five or six hundred yards, under proper conditions and if I have the gun braced on something. Most of the militia members are lifelong hunters, and we have them practice at between two hundred and five hundred yards.” I noted his quizzical expression. “We found a long stretch of road and drew a firing line at one end. Then there’s another white line at every hundred yard mark up to five hundred. We move our targets back and forth.”

  Mary pulled some beef jerky from a pouch on her belt. “They get moved every day too. We roll dice, for real, to see where.”

  “We do change the ranges daily, to keep people from getting into a rhythm.”

  “Good plan,” he acknowledged. “And while I’m thinking about it, Captain Briggs thinks we should give you the rank of captain while the Black Hills militia is in the field.”

  “He should be a general,�
�� protested Mary, only half-jokingly, “or a field marshal.”

  “There are no field marshal’s in the United States,” I commented. “You know that.”

  “There are in Stratego.”

  “This isn’t a board game.” I tousled her hair, and Mary slapped my hand away. “I’ll be going by my name. We have positions and ranks in the militia we set up, but we don’t use them in any sort of formal way, more for bookkeeping. Considering how few we are, it’s first name all the time.”

  “Whatever works best,” said Gikas, apparently disinclined to argue and more than a little disapproving.

  Both the lieutenant and captain were quite formal, as were many of the other soldiers in Yellowstone. Those who’d ended up with us tended to be much more relaxed. They sometimes saluted one another, but even that was dying out. There were less than a dozen in the Black Hills at present, with the most senior being a sergeant. The way we were affecting their discipline was probably not for the best.

  “More of the raiders were spotted yesterday, including some children.” Gikas checked something on his clipboard. It was the old fashioned sort.

  “Similar to the last time,” I murmured.

  “How so?” asked Mary.

  “Remember how they were split up at first and then banded together before hitting Salt Lake City?”

  She nodded.

  “After they did that, their families were all put in one place and kept there while they made war on the Ranching Collective and us. Then the raiders split up, and so did the non-combatants. Well, they are gathering together again, so it stands to reason that their loved ones will be placed in a single group, to keep them out of the way and safe.” I turned toward Gikas. “Last time they fought from Rawlins in Wyoming while they left their kids several hundred miles away in Utah.”

  “From what we’ve seen recently, they can’t be more than fifty or sixty miles off.”

  “That doesn’t fit the pattern,” I acknowledged, “but I still think they will be in a single large group prior to any attacks.”