by David Spell
"So, you're the expert now, Mr. McCain?" Turani asked.
Careful, Chuck, he told himself. He's trying to bait you. He took a deep breath and held it, slowly exhaling, and letting a smile come to his face.
"Yes, I'm the expert or at least one of them. My men and I, along with the other CDC officers in different cities, have been leading the way since our enemies deployed this bio-terror virus. My officers took out a group of suicide bombers yesterday, a couple of hours from here. Also yesterday, one of my other teams took down one of the most wanted bomb-makers in the world and apprehended one of the terrorists responsible for the attack at the University of Georgia.
"I was there in the middle of that attack at UGA and if it wasn't for the mini gun on that Blackhawk, we would have all been killed and there would have been no survivors."
Trimble smirked and nodded. "Oh, I've been following all of your exploits. Your men got some of the suicide bombers but I understand a few got away. And, yes, your team did shoot and kill a notorious bomb maker and terrorist in Virginia, after he had already dispatched his men to New York, Washington, and Atlanta. It seems like you and your men are always just a little late to the party."
McCain realized he was staring at the deputy director's throat. No, you can't kill him, he told himself.
Chuck lowered his voice and looked into the man's eyes. "And what have you done, Mr. Deputy Director? We haven't received a single piece of actionable intelligence from your office. I didn't even know the FBI had a Weapons of Mass Destruction Directorate until five minutes ago. It would seem to a simple street cop like me that the zombie virus would be your primary mission."
Trimble quickly looked away, cleared his throat, and acted as if he had not heard anything McCain had just said. "Well, sir, this is clearly a policy decision that is over both of our pay grades. I think these fine policemen and women will be able to bring these infected people down and show the world that we do not need to unleash our military weapons on our homeland.
"The President wants to let Americans know that we are winning this war and that our local and federal law enforcement officers can handle this crisis without military intervention. This is a good place to stop the onslaught and I'm sure that these fine local officers, FBI agents, and your agents from the CDC will keep these infected people from going any further north."
"Are you going to stay and help us fight, Mr. Deputy Director?" Chuck asked, looking into both Trimble's and Turani's eyes.
Trimble gave a small smile and said, "No, I'll leave that to you, Mr. McCain. After all, you are the expert."
With that, Trimble and Turani turned and walked to the other side of the CP. Burns shook his head. "I'm sorry, Chuck. He's no cop. This is just a stepping-stone for him to get a bigger and better job in the Department of Justice and then run for some office. He has no idea what he's doing.
"Before you got here, I had the same conversation with them. A few gunships could engage the Zs on some of the long, deserted stretches of interstate. There would be no collateral damage and no civilians would be in danger. He just told me that if I wanted to 'climb the ladder' at the Bureau, I needed to see the Big Picture."
"Yeah," said Chuck, "but considering where he has his head, I'm surprised he can see anything."
#
Staging Area, Braves Stadium Parking Lot, Saturday, 0730 hours
At 0600 hours, the FAA grounded all news helicopters. The previous evening, and even into the early morning of the next day, the feds had waived the non-flying exemptions for them and allowed them to keep broadcasting from the air. With the President's order not to utilize the military to stop the zombies, however, the administration wanted to control what was being released to the public.
The media was being kept in another of the stadium parking lots a quarter mile north, off of Stadium Parkway. This road ran parallel to I-75 and meant that the press was also in path of the zombies. The Atlanta Police Liaison Officer gave an updated briefing at 0700 hours. The officer encouraged the reporters to leave and let them know that the police could not protect them. Every available officer was going to be needed to fight the oncoming Zs.
At 0545 hours, Chuck had briefed his men on the situation and let them know that they were still needed. No rest for the weary. A big fight was on the horizon. The Zs were coming straight towards them, the interstate funneling them directly towards the staging area. He told the CDC officers to check their weapons, reload their magazines, find some food, and to get a nap. He would wake them before the fun started.
Major Campbell agreed to stay airborne, providing updates on the progress of the zombie horde. Campbell now estimated at least two thousand Zs were heading north, in the direction of the command post. Air Force helicopters were monitoring other groups moving in different directions out of the city.
Earlier, at 0600 hours, McCain had called Shaun Taylor, Admiral Williams' assistant. There was no answer so he left a voice mail asking for a call. At 0630, McCain's phone vibrated. The caller ID showed it was the Admiral himself calling.
"Good morning, sir," Chuck answered.
"Good morning, Mr. McCain. I understand you've had an eventful few days."
"Yes, sir. You could say that."
"Well, first of all, congratulations to you and your men for tracking down Terrell Hill and Usama Zayad. I had no idea you'd be able to find Hill so quickly. And, taking out Zayad was even more good news."
"Thank you, Admiral, but that was all the doing of Eddie Marshall, one of my team leaders. He worked for the US Marshal's Service before he came to work for us. I'd heard he was pretty good at tracking down fugitives. He and his men did an exceptional job."
"They certainly did. Hill is spilling his guts, even as we speak. To have done as much damage as he did, he knows surprisingly little. We did get one important piece of intel from him that has helped us tie up at least one loose end. Your colleagues in DC will be getting a visit from my assistant, Mr. Taylor, in the very near future, and giving them a very special mission."
"Walker and Trang both know about the Agency's involvement, sir," Chuck confessed. "I told them."
There was a pause and a deep breath on the other end of the phone. "Why did you feel a need to tell them, Mr. McCain?"
Chuck almost laughed. "Well, sir, you guys weren't very subtle when you sent the van to take custody of Hill. Jay was on Seal Team Six and Tu was a Green Beret. They knew both of the contractors who came and got him. Jay and Tu started asking Eddie questions. He was able to deflect them until I arrived.
"Trang and Walker are two high level operators. They knew something was up, so I had them sign a disclosure form and told them everything. I figured it was better to go ahead and tell them rather than having them trying to figure it out on their own and getting their other officers involved. Honestly, they couldn't care less since they both had a lot of contact with the Agency when they were spec ops warriors."
"That might actually be better," admitted the admiral. "I was going to have to come up with an elaborate DHS cover story for Shaun to use when he meets with them. Now, the cards are on the table. So, please tell me, what's happening in Atlanta?"
McCain told him everything that he had observed and why it was absolutely necessary to bring some military assets into play if they were going to take the city back. He let the Admiral know that the police staging area was in the path of a large group of infected. Other big groups, however, were moving in every direction, through the downtown area and out of the city, and on all the other highways. Additional law enforcement barricades were set up at different points in and around Atlanta. None of them had enough manpower or firepower to stop the mass of zombies coming their way.
"Admiral, do you know a deputy director with the FBI named, Charles Trimble? They sent him down here to monitor what's happening."
"Charles Trimble, III. Oh yes. He probably wouldn't admit it but we're pretty sure the suggestion to not use the military came from his office. Is his young lapdog, Spe
cial Agent Turani, with him?"
"Yes, sir. That explains why Trimble got a little upset when I said this was a stupid decision."
Williams laughed. "That would do it. Trimble thinks a lot of himself but he's actually not that bright. He has political aspirations and his eyes set on the attorney general's office, but he's no cop and not even a very good lawyer. The idea for not using the military or any heavy weapons probably originated with Turani. He's smart and a pretty good attorney. He's been riding Trimble's coattails for a while now. He's also our prime suspect for some of the leaks they've been having over there. We've haven't been able to catch him with a smoking gun yet. If he's not a Muslim extremist and a traitor, I'll be very surprised.
"For now, do your best with what you have. You're a resourceful person. Try to eliminate as many of them as you can and then withdraw. I know this looks like a losing battle but the CIA Director and others in this crazy city are trying to get the President to listen to reason. The President seems to have bought into this idea that if we turn our military loose on American soil, we've somehow given our enemies a moral victory."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, Admiral. I'm just worried that by the time the President comes to his senses, it'll be too late."
When Chuck walked back to the command post, there was no sign of Charles E. Trimble, III or Mir Turani.
"Your buddies flee back to the safe confines of their DC offices?" he asked Burns.
"Not my buddies. Those two don't have many friends inside the agency. I have to admit, it did do my heart good to watch you put both of them in their place. And you never raised your voice. Very impressive. And, yes, they'd seen enough and could report back that they put themselves in harm's way to make sure everything was being handled correctly."
"It's easy to see why they don't have any friends. And, speaking of friends, who's in overall command of this scene?"
"Technically, I guess that would be me. That's Atlanta's Deputy Chief of Police over there, Beverly Cochran," Burns said, pointing out a middle-age woman in an APD uniform on the other side of the CP. "She's done a great job of getting all these assets in place. It's just that none of us know where to start and we have a mass of Zs coming towards us. This is kind of starting to feel like the Alamo, McCain."
"Ok," said Chuck. "I don't want to step on anybody's toes but we have maybe two thousand of those things that'll be here in an hour. We need to get organized and ready to fight. We can't let them pass unopposed. Our orders are to make a stand. Marietta is just up the road and we have to try and stop them or at least thin the ranks some."
Burns nodded. "Let's go talk to the Chief and see if she has anything in mind."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCain," said Deputy Chief Cochran, as they shook hands. "I spoke to a few of our SWAT team after the incident the other night in Virginia Highlands. They said that you and your men were the 'real deal.' Coming from our SWAT officers, that's high praise."
"Thank you, ma'am. They're all quick learners and did a great job."
Cochran was a short, stocky, fifty-something African-American woman. She had earned her position the old-fashioned way- she had worked for it. Cochran came up through the ranks, tackling a variety of positions. Her favorite job had been as a homicide investigator and she had been known as one of the best detectives in the country.
Standing in the command post, however, Cochran knew that she was in over her head. They all were. How many hundreds or thousands of zombies were coming their way? And she was supposed to stop them with a hundred cops? With the exception of the SWAT officers and the CDC agents on the scene, none of them were ready for this.
When she had first arrived at the CP a few hours earlier, the deputy chief had directed some of her officers to drive south in the northbound lanes of the interstate. With traffic gridlocked around the incident location, nothing was driving out of the city. They had managed to rescue over a hundred people. The last group of officers had gone too far south, though, encountering the front elements of the zombies. Six of her officers were lost. The chief cancelled any further rescue efforts.
One of the things that Deputy Chief Cochran's officers loved about her was that she didn't think she had all the answers. In reality, her job and the job of the other executive leaders at the police department was to make decisions to keep the police agency moving forward. The best ideas did not always come from her. They often came from her people, the ones out in the field doing the work.
"Mr. McCain, we need some help. Agent Burns and I have been talking but we're both not really sure what we should be doing. What do you think?"
Chuck quickly outlined what he thought they needed to do, if Agent Burns and Chief Cochran would allow him. She quickly told McCain that he was in tactical control of every police officer at the staging area. Burns nodded in agreement. This was not the time for egos or jurisdiction squabbles. They needed someone to take charge and get them ready to fight.
#
North of Atlanta, Saturday, 0800 hours
Hakeem and Abdul were in the white Chevrolet van. Omar drove the black Volkswagen Jetta. Before they left the Islamic Center, Hakeem had briefed the two men and helped them put their suicide vests back on and armed them. Thanks to the local news coverage, he knew exactly where the closest police staging area and command post was set up.
The news channel had shown aerial footage from the previous day of large groups of zombies moving throughout the city, up the interstates, and now closing in on the location near the Braves Stadium where the police and first responders waited. That was where Hakeem and his two soldiers would attack. While the infected attacked the police from the front, the soldiers of Allah would hit them from the rear.
Hakeem did not have a suicide vest of his own. He did have his AK-47, however, and several magazines of 7.62x39mm ammo. Today would be a day of vengeance. Hakeem had lost many friends over the years to the infidel soldiers. Today, he would shed some American blood on American soil.
#
Staging Area, Braves Stadium Parking Lot, Saturday, 0815 hours
Chuck had gone right to work. He had his seven men, twelve SWAT officers, sixty-five patrol officers, and eight FBI agents. Not quite a hundred officers to stop two thousand hungry zombies. Two of the three SWAT teams previously at the staging area had been sent back to their own counties. Both of those teams been pulled an hour before to protect their own jurisdictions as the infected moved in every direction out of Atlanta.
Deputy Chief Cochran had sent out a help call for additional officers from her own department and some of the surrounding police agencies. Supposedly, there were officers on the way. Several of the other departments, however, saw the news as well, and knew that the zombies would eventually be in their neighborhoods and were hesitant to send away their manpower when they might soon be needed there.
Along with not having enough manpower, another challenge was that Interstate 285 was half a mile south of the staging area. Chuck wanted to prevent the zombies from getting on that highway. I-285 is the Atlanta loop and would give the Zs even more access to other parts of the city. They needed to keep the infected moving north on Interstate 75 so they could kill as many of them as possible before the police would be forced to retreat.
Before the I-285 intersection, however, there were there were two other exits that the police needed to prevent the infected from using. Cumberland Boulevard was the first one and Akers Mill Road was half a mile further north. Chuck quickly developed a plan to keep the zombies moving north on I-75.
Of the sixty-five patrol officers on scene, thirty-two were equipped with rifles. Another thirteen had pump action shotguns. The other twenty were only armed with their handguns. Chuck shook his head when he found this out. The effective range of a pistol and a shotgun loaded with buckshot was twenty-five to thirty yards. And the idea of making head shots at that range with those weapons was not realistic. The sad fact is that most police officers are, at best, average shots.
Chuck
asked Scotty to take charge of the two APD SWAT snipers and to take out as many Zs as they could from distance. Smith borrowed an extra sniper rifle, a Remington Model 700 in .300 Winchester Magnum, from the tactical team. The big CDC officer was also able to repair the extractor on his M4 rifle. The Atlanta SWAT truck had a number of gun parts stored on board and within a few minutes, the rifle was functional again.
As an Army Ranger sniper, Scotty had engaged and killed targets at distances of over a thousand yards in Iraq. The average American police sniper shot was around seventy yards. The two SWAT snipers had both trained at long distances, however, and the three of them would start engaging zombies very soon.
McCain had Jimmy and Andy putting the police officers in good fighting positions near the command post. Jimmy had been a Marine infantry officer and had led young Marines into battle on two combat tours in Iraq. Andy had had multiple deployments as a special operations Marine in Afghanistan, Iraq, and other hotspots throughout the world. They both knew what needed to be done.
#
South of the Staging Area, Braves Stadium Parking Lot, Saturday, 0845 hours
The Blackhawk touched down on the overpass where Cumberland Boulevard crossed I-75. Major Campbell landed about fifty yards from the center of the bridge. That would be where the three snipers, Andy, Jimmy, and seven other SWAT officers would start engaging the horde of zombies. The heavily armed men exited quickly and took positions facing south.
Before picking up the officers at the staging area, Campbell had done a flyover of the mass of infected steadily moving north. Chuck had run up to the helicopter to hear the latest from the pilot in person.