Following some tedious, pointless small talk – how I hate that sort of thing – Mary, Major Briggs, and I ended up in a corner. Nothing important had happened. There were no discussions of policy matters, no plans for the future. This was just a meet and greet. In other words, my time was being wasted.
* * *
“So, Jacob,” began the president – he joined us a little over an hour into the luncheon – “how do you like Hawaii?”
“It’s sunny,” I replied. “There’s a nice breeze going all the time too. Gotta say that the weather is pleasant.”
“And beaches,” added Mary, with enthusiasm. “You can’t forget the beaches. Of course we now own Mount Rushmore, which we aren’t going to share, and that makes up for us not having an ocean.”
James Lawson laughed easily.
“We want pineapples to take back too,” she added, “or we really won’t share Mount Rushmore, not ever.”
“That can be arranged. We still produce a sizeable amount, although nowhere near the historical highs. Much of the land had to be put to other use or left alone due to manpower shortages.”
Dreadful, absolutely dreadful.
“I’ll see to it that you go back with plenty of cane sugar as well.”
Mary’s eyes twinkled. That would be nice, and it would certainly brighten Steph’s day. Sugar was one of the things we largely did without.
“I do have some questions for you, small things before the real meetings start.”
“Ask away,” I said. I’d been expecting this.
“How soon can you receive troops, in the range of ten thousand?”
“Would they require permanent housing?” inquired Major Briggs. “And, would they bring supplies? If so, how much and what? Also, what time of year are you anticipating?”
I nodded. “There is a world of difference between summer and winter where we live. It’s worse in Yellowstone. Travel in the winter there is mostly limited to snowmobiles, horses, or on foot. The roads completely vanish.”
“It would not be until next spring,” he clarified, “and the ten thousand is a maximum figure, our military plus volunteers. The real number will more likely be half that.”
“You’re still putting them in Yellowstone?” asked Mary.
“Correct. They will be stationed there.”
“Keeping to that timetable, we can have basic housing and facilities prepared,” replied the major, “meaning large log cabins, barracks style. Jacob is going to secure the Air Force base in Rapid City as well, but that won’t happen until just prior to arrival.”
“Easy enough to do, but too much trouble to hold it indefinitely,” I explained, noting the president’s perplexed expression. “We go there regularly and keep an eye on the place, but I can’t spare the people who would be needed to guard it round the clock, not for more than a few days. You do want the base?”
“We are working on several scenarios,” admitted the president, “but almost all of these include using Ellsworth Air Force Base as a transport hub. Much of the earliest work will be out of Yellowstone or the nearby airstrips, but that will eventually shift.”
That jived with what Major Briggs had been telling me. Personally, I would probably set up in Ellsworth right off the bat. Wall it off, maybe with a combination of chain link, cinderblocks, razor wire, and well placed trenches, and it would be safe from the shamblers. This should give the military a solid headquarters with easy access to the interstates and highways. Of course, there might be some political issues of which I was unaware that had everyone leaning toward the Yellowstone first plan. Or maybe they just wanted to be around real people.
“Which way are you going to go?” I asked. “Once you start moving out to kill the zombies, I mean.”
“That remains to be seen. We will clear the immediate region first.”
“That’s easy,” interjected Mary. “We kill any that come close ourselves or get them going the opposite direction. You won’t find too many near us.”
Lawson disregarded her interruption. “Next would be ensuring the primary highways are passable and selecting specific high density areas, such as Denver, for attack.”
“While going where huge groups of zombies are gathered will let you cut the numbers down fast,” I began, “you really, really should consider taking small towns first. There are still plenty of canned goods and other useful supplies to be found, helping with the supply situation. It’s also the most likely place you will find survivors.”
“Less likely to get eaten too,” said Mary. “It’ll give you practice. Practice is important. Without practice I wouldn’t be able to make happy faces at fifty feet.”
The president looked at her appraisingly.
“Mary is capable of doing this,” confirmed Major Briggs, “and Mary, you’re forgetting that units have been landing on both coasts. The Army and Marine Corps are developing new tactics and practicing the rapid formation of firing lines. They will be more than ready.”
“I’ll bet you two chickens and a gallon of Steph’s moonshine, I mean emergency medication, that our militia can out zombie kill anyone else. Same goes for you Mr. P, if you want in on the action.”
Ooh, that title was bound to stick, or at least become part of the gossip circuit. The senators might not have joined in the conversation, but several were only a few feet away, pretending not to listen.
“That is a bold statement, young lady,” he replied, not losing any of his good humor, “and one that I think is inherently unfair.”
“Hey, I’m always fair.” Mary giggled. “Even when I’m cheating.”
Briana was way off on the opposite side of the room. Hurray for that.
“I’ve met with the instructors previously stationed in both the Black Hills and Yellowstone,” continued President Lawson. “They were quick to point out that your militias are not up to military standards.”
Major Briggs stiffened, and Mary looked more than a little pissed. I did not react, waiting to hear the rest of it.
“I was told that your leaders, especially in the case of Jacob, require them to ignore traditional military discipline, close order drills, protocol, and many of the more specialized training. Instead, the focus was on marksmanship, marksmanship, and marksmanship with every man capable of doubling as a sniper.”
“We do like to kill people at a distance,” agreed Mary, softening somewhat, “especially if they aren’t looking.”
I found myself nodding.
“In conjunction with being the best shots possible, these men described the system of utilizing small, closely knit squads – I believe it is ten in the Black Hills and twenty in Yellowstone – with such units forming the core of your militia. Am I correct in saying that you desire to create what is essentially an entire army composed of special forces?”
“We don’t have the population for a standard infantry regiment,” I remarked, “much less one including mechanized units, aside from our helicopters and small planes. Those are all piloted by civilians, in case you didn’t know. None have ever served.”
“Didn’t stop them from blowing up the raiders,” laughed Mary. “You should see what a Cobra can do to a person’s body with their guns. It is a little gory with inside parts leaking out and spilling on the ground – don’t be watching if you have a wimpy stomach – but we are talking about a whole lot of fun. You need to give us more of them.”
Mary was definitely going to be a focus of local conversation for quite some time. Should I try to calm her down? Hell, no. This was entertaining.
“I’ve seen images that the major here sent our way,” confirmed the president. “They were quite dreadful.”
Mary snorted and tossed her hair back with one hand. “Were not. Those monsters deserved it.” She paused. “That doesn’t count the ones in the cave. We did not know they had their children right behind the machine guns that were shooting at us. We wouldn’t have fired the missiles at them if we did.”
“The man had little co
ncern for human life,” agreed Major Briggs. “He put his own in danger. Then we have the thousands, probably tens of thousands, of innocent men, women, and children, including newborn babies, his forces raped, tortured, and killed since it all began.”
“The world is better off without that group operating,” stated President Lawson.
No one was going to argue with him. Along with footage of the battles, Briggs sent recordings of the atrocities committed. Some were pictures we’d taken while recovering the dead, but others were videos shot by the bastards themselves. The number of humans capable of viewing these, without throwing up, is quite small.
“There are some elsewhere in the world behaving similarly, unfortunately.”
Those close enough to hear stirred.
“How so?” I asked.
“The Caliphate has absorbed every Muslim group it has encountered, provided they were suitably devout and Sunni. Shiites and the smaller sects have been exterminated, the men anyway. Non-Muslims have been enslaved. We do know that they are openly practicing slavery, and, as it stands right now, there is nothing we can do about it.”
“How many of them are there?”
He looked at me. “That’s hard to say, perhaps a hundred thousand with most scattered about between Pakistan and Turkey, but it could be far more. They are not part of our discussions this week though. That is to focus on next year’s planned recovery of America.” His gaze shifted to Mary. “While I’m thinking about it, let’s return to my initial point about your militias.”
“You were saying something about us not being up to military standards,” she prompted.
“Yes, with your system of training and what you focus on, your militia members are generally better shots than our soldiers. The target range reports certainly bear that out with rifles, and there is no doubt as to pistols.”
“Small groups of zombies are often allowed to draw close,” explained Major Briggs. “This is most common when fighting in cities and towns. It is often impossible to engage at a distance. A handgun offers greater flexibility in such instances.”
“We kill more of them with pistols than rifles,” I clarified. “General rule is to let them get within fifteen feet for a guaranteed hit.”
“That’s for weenies,” declared Mary. “Ten feet for me.”
“Ten feet?”
“That’s right, Mr. P.” She was smiling broadly.
“Fifteen feet when she’s behaving. Less when my daughter wants to be doing extra chores.”
“Dad is sort of picky about silly safety stuff.” She poked me in the side with one finger. “No sense of adventure.”
“The point is that you are perfectly suited to putting zombies down. I realize you requested the instructors for the purpose of dealing with the raiders, which lent itself to the small unit special warfare system you developed. Everything that was covered in your training and set up reflects this, extreme use of snipers, no weapons that cannot be carried while on foot in difficult terrain. Yet, all of this also transfers to the dead, especially your obsession with hitting what you aim at.”
“That’s not so much an obsession as common sense,” I pointed out, trying to be polite while I said it.
“I understand,” replied Lawson. “But, you have a society and militia, due in large part to the travails you have faced, that is perfectly equipped and suited to dealing with the zombies and any small, rogue groups you may face. How do you think you would fare against a properly trained, properly equipped company of grunts, either American or from a developed nation with a strong military tradition?”
“We would…” Mary trailed off. “We’d probably get our asses handed to us, if we fought fair. We try not to do that.”
“No one tries to fight fair,” commented the major. “It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”
“Hey, I get to be sneaky, but no one else. I like having the advantage, same way that I like having lots of chocolate. Do you have any chocolate? We ran out ages ago.”
“I’ll see what I can do about that,” promised the president. “It was not a priority crop, and our local cultivation is very, very limited.”
“Well,” she pressed, “then go and invade someone who does grow whatever it is that chocolate comes from.”
“That would be Mexico south and portions of Africa, a few places in southern Asia.”
“Let’s invade Mexico then,” suggested Mary. “I bet there aren’t that many people left down there. They probably wouldn’t even complain too much.”
President Lawson leaned in, but did not lower his voice. “The long term plan is for the United States to encompass the entirety of North America and the nearby islands.”
None of the senators and other lurking officials reacted. While this was news to me, it had apparently been discussed previously.
“I see no reason not to lay claim,” he continued.
Personally, I thought there were plenty of justifications in favor, with acquisition of natural resources being foremost on the list.
“I don’t think anyone elsewhere will object, aside from independent minded locals, but those appear to be few and far between. I also expect the British and Swiss to take Europe, aside from the easternmost parts Russia has claimed. China will end up with most of southern Asia. The Japanese and Israelis will probably settle for less, just the territory nearest them, but you never know. No shortage of land to go around.”
“The Caliphate has declared dominion over the entire world,” pointed out Major Briggs.
“Who cares what they say?” Mary shook her head. “They’re just crazy. Want to bet on whether or not we end up fighting them too?”
As if zombies, the raiders, and The Brotherhood had not been enough.
* * *
“You said what to the president?” demanded Briana.
We were back in the hotel room getting ready to head over to the beach again. Asher wanted to build a sand castle.
“Don’t worry,” began the major. “I think he truly enjoyed the conversation. Lawson is more accessible than any other president in recent history, but people still tend to be formal. Mary was not outright disrespectful or rude, and he realized that. She talked like he was an ordinary person.”
“He is an ordinary person,” she protested. “Nothing special about being president. He gets to boss around more people than my dad, but that’s it.”
She grew up in a world devoid of the old politics and the near worship the media and celebrities gave the holder of that office. This assumes the president was a Democrat. If it was a Republican, they would do little but demean and ridicule him. I was so glad the overtly partisan main street media was gone. I was less happy about not having news coverage in general. It took forever to learn what was going on nowadays.
The political situation had shifted dramatically as well. You still had liberals and conservatives and all the variations in between. However, the breakdown was anything but even. Conservatives survived those initial chaotic days in far greater numbers. Part of this was due to the tendency of liberals to live in large cities and conservatives in smaller towns or suburbs. If you doubt this, look at a map on how counties voted in previous elections. The bulk of the country will be red with only a few blue dots encompassing the large population centers, cities which proved to be deathtraps. Then you have the fact that those to the right were far more likely to own guns. Guns are important during a zombie uprising. Engaging the shambling dead up close with a baseball bat or tire iron is something most people have difficulty with, and it’s always risky.
Additionally, the circumstances afterward lend themselves toward the Republican system. Granted, housing is provided to everyone, along with food, but that is out of necessity and is more community driven than government. Also, many liberal policies such as expansive welfare and social engineering no longer apply. Those programs had gone the way of the dodo. Taxation was likewise a non-issue. There were no more rich, no more poor, not in the way they once existed. W
hat mattered most was self-reliance and hard work. People shifted to the right, even if they did not realize it. That would change in the generations to come – political winds always change – but it would take a while.
“Being president may not be particularly special,” said Briana, “but it is an important position. He is the leader of our country after all.”
“No,” countered Mary. “We are an autonomous dictatorship, and you are one of the dictators.”
“I am a consul, not a dictator.”
“We do have pretty much absolute power,” I offered.
Briana shot me a dirty look.
“The two of you might hold such authority,” commented Briggs, “but you are so far from abusing it that no one could honestly label you dictators. And, in case you haven’t heard the rumors yet, the people here like the idea of a consulship. Some have talked about amending the Constitution to that end, but I don’t see this happening. It only works when you have two people who are in general agreement. I doubt any two politicians would fall into that category.”
“You can’t trust politicians,” I agreed. “They are all bad.”
“You’re a politician too,” said Mary, “sort of.”
“Let’s pretend I’m not.”
* * *
More meetings followed. These were varied with the majority involving only myself and Major Briggs speaking with local military commanders. Now, I have a great deal of respect for the Army, the Navy, the Marine Corps, and the Air Force. I would include the Coast Guard but they no longer exist – any surviving personnel had been absorbed into the Navy – but they have an obsession with paperwork and formalities. I’ll be the first to admit that standards of behavior, the constant saluting, and the discipline all exist for exceptionally good reasons, and if the Black Hills had a proper military instead of a citizen’s militia, we would do the same. The paperwork however, no, that is the result of bureaucratic creep. It starts with a small number of necessary reports and grows and grows and grows until half the force is wasting its time with meaningless drivel instead of fulfilling the primary role of preparing for combat.
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation Page 30