“At ease, son, I’m just here hoping the food is better than out of a bag. You know that gets old fast.” The airman’s two buddies turned to face the general and grinned at their friend’s discomfort.
“Sir, you can go to the head of the line, uh, right?” A1C Wyatt asked confused. “I mean your time is valuable.”
“Son, if I saw anyone try to walk to the front of the line, I would be most unhappy with that person. Rank has its privileges, but not its abuses. Any idea what’s on the menu tonight?”
“Word was it was going to be meat and potatoes, but they ran out, so it’s pizza and short order.”
“Oh well, probably for the best in my case. If I had a heavy meal now, it’d most likely put me right to sleep on duty.” All three airmen started to laugh uncontrollably as the general tried to figure out what was so funny.
“Err, sorry sir. We were out at the Nation Guard Armory all day, most of that time fighting to stay awake.” Wetzel informed the general. Before he could reply, the line moved briskly and they found themselves inside. It was warm and smelled of pizza and frying grease. The three airmen faced forward so they could watch the reaction to a general entering the field kitchen. The cook nearest the entrance looked twice, then gave the order.
“At ease.”
“What would the general like tonight, Sir?” A tiny private, looking like she was playing dress up, asked. She looked like a trapped animal that wanted to flee.
“I’d like to be served after these men ahead of me. Thank you, though.” He looked at the heated food trays and saw the steam coming up around the bins. Inside the first one there were mashed potatoes and another held mixed vegetables. Further down was a grill with a few burgers sizzling, next to it a deep fat fryer filled with French fries. That either smells really good, or I’m really hungry. “I’ll just have a double cheeseburger and fries to go, please.” I’ll just eat in my office, I’m making too many nervous out here.
The food carton still felt nice and hot as he set it down popped it open and began to feel his stomach growl with anticipation, then there was a knock at the door. “Enter”
“Sir, don’t let me interrupt you from your dinner, I thought you’d want to know the numbers for people we found in the town. The tally was only four hundred-twenty, but we learned many survivors escaped out to a couple dozen or more places in the county, at least another four hundred, we estimate. Our teams are reporting most of the survivors want to volunteer or do anything they can to support us.
In addition, some want the Zs left alone until there’s a cure. We think one of them might be our terrorist, he found his wife and son on the bridge where we fired on the Zs, according to friends of his. He was also an engineering officer in the Army before getting out and working the oil fields here, he has the knowledge and access to explosives.”
“Thanks. General Davis, how about if you call me William or even Willy Pete when we’re alone, and I’ll call you Jim. That’s a mixture of good and bad news. We’ll have to get a description of him out there to keep an eye out for him until we can prove his innocence or guilt.” Peters stopped to bite into the hamburger and decided the field kitchen was a success.
“I’ll let you finish your dinner. Smells so good I’m going to have one as well, see if they have any bacon for it before that becomes a shortage.”
“Good point, Jim. We’re going to have to start sending out foraging parties to neighboring areas and try to find farms and foodstuffs. Fresh meat and dairy can keep morale high for a long time. I’d just hate to find out the farms have been wiped out by Zs.”
The sound of banging and activity distracted Peters from his walk. On the far side of the field, the speed and scope of those putting up tents was impressive. Each tent going up was comparable in size to a doublewide mobile home, nearby were piles of cots waiting to be set up and sleeping bags. They may not be fancy or provide much privacy; they will be safe and comfortable. Now we just need to clean out their houses as quickly as we can so they can move back into town. The happier we make these folks, the better the public relations for getting civilian help in the future. I’d better get a move on to watch the operation.
The satellite view was projected on the side of the wall. On the screen; twenty Strykers were intermixed with three hundred trucks and cars heading towards the airport. The view changed to over the airport itself as long lines of personnel lined up to process the civilians onto the airport grounds. Peters accepted a mug of coffee as he watched the screen, then looked down at his coffee. How long will the niceties like coffee last? The screen view changed again and the vehicles were now turning onto the airport road. The Strykers were parking alongside the highway, waiting for the last vehicle to turn off the highway. The way the civilians were being guided where to park that reminded Peters of parking at a state fair.
The Strykers once more began to move as they headed towards the town. They broke into ten pairs as they separated, entering the town in different areas, then they each stopped in their assigned locations. The Strykers became harder to see as the light began to fade, first casting long shadows then a mere twilight effect. The view changed to thermal and the Strykers were once again easy to see in contrast to the cooling streets and buildings around them.
“All Reds, strike up the band.” BG Davis radioed. Instead of music, each vehicle had recordings of other infected crowds they had encountered in the past. Initially, a few infected started to exit houses and stores in ones and twos. As it got darker, they began to come out by the handfuls from larger stores and government buildings. An hour after starting the recordings, each pair of Strykers was surrounded by hundreds of the infected, most were covered.
“Looks like a good crop of Zs we have there. I think it’s time to harvest them. Let’s try to get a count.” Peters ordered, cringing a little at the loss of life that was going to occur in the next couple of hours.
“All Strykers, proceed to your next destination.” BG Davis ordered. SSG Levine heard the order come in and shuddered. It was bad enough being in the center of town with Zs screeching at him and climbing all over the damn vehicle while pounding to try and get in, now he had to lead them out of town and ‘remove them as a threat.’ “Let’s get the hell out of here Lenny. You remember the route?”
“Affirmative SSG. Proceeding south to Business Loop 25 south.” The Stryker slowly moved forward as the shrieks and screams hit a crescendo, then the first infected fell under the tires as those behind them shoved them forward to try to get at the vehicle. Levine looked over and saw the second Stryker was following behind him about thirty feet, matching their speed of approximately 5 MPH. The infected on top started to fall off as they tried to find anything they could hold onto as they shoved at each other in terror.
Behind the Stryker and on the sides, the infected shrieked even louder than earlier as they gave chase to the vehicle. The Stryker was still bouncing slightly as infected ran in front of it and fell under the wheels. The crunching sound of bones being pulverized under the weight of the tires was followed by a new sound, the eerie wailing cry of the mangled still left alive.
Lenny involuntarily shuddered as he increased speed to get ahead of the infected. Many were still coming out from between houses and businesses and he couldn’t swerve in time to miss them, but he felt better for the effort. “Slow it down, Lenny; we don’t want them too tired when we kill them. That’d be cruel, or even crueler if they gave up chasing us and we had to go in during the day to get them out of buildings. Here’s our turn, won’t be long until our night’s over. When the road veers to the right keep going straight onto the dirt road. Only two miles after that is our little spot between the hills.” Levine turned the turret to view the top of the vehicle, relieved to see there were no passengers riding on top. The chase Stryker sped up so it was now parallel to his own; he popped his hatch to talk.
“SSG Levine, we’re starting to lose a few stragglers. I think we need to employ our air guards to snipe any stragglers.�
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“We’re clear of the bastards, go ahead. Just don’t let the fuckers get too close.” He shouted back, and then spoke into his microphone. “Air guards up; target any stragglers that look like they lost interest, target stragglers only, unless they’re close enough to climb on board.”
The Stryker started to go downhill into a mini valley created by hills on all sides. Near the top of the south hill was a pair of fuel storage tanks. Earlier he had come out with an Air Force fuel specialist and stood guard as the airman opened up the valves, after making sure the Stryker was over a half mile away.
“Lenny, the entire area is saturated, stay on the side of the hill to the left above the wet spots. I don’t want a stray spark to be my end. No one fires from here on out, if a Z gets too close, hit ’em. Just don’t shoot’ em!” He then picked up the mike to transmit. “Blue 4, Blue 3, stay in my tracks from here on out and zero firing of any weapons. The valley floor’s saturated in fuel. One spark and we’re toast. Copy?”
“Blue 4 copies.”
“Air Guards, let’s get back in and button up. If that shit fires up, maybe we’ll have a chance. The wet south hill and valley floor glistened in the starlight and weak moonlight. Aww crap, the slope’s starting to feel too steep. Why do I picture us rolling downhill into our own fire? “Lenny, how you doing? It’s looking a little steep here.”
“We’re still looking good. Another quarter mile and we’ll be going uphill. I just have to be careful of any bumps or hidden depressions. There was a collective sigh as the Stryker leveled out before beginning its final leg of its trip up the east hill and out of the valley of fuel.
Nearing the top of the hill, Levine ordered ‘air guards up’ as they crested the hill. The second Stryker pulled up alongside as they looked down at the thousands of infected still entering the valley and the many who had found the hillside to difficult to walk on, and had had rolled to the bottom of the hill, now in waist deep fuel.
“Lenny, take us down twenty feet and stop. I want the top of the hill for cover in case this goes off bigger than I think. I’m going to dismount and fire up the Zs. Everyone stay under the crest of the hill.” Levine climbed out of his hatch carrying a satchel and jumped to the ground. Climbing up the short distance to the top of the hill, he cursed the 30 degree slope. Looking down into the valley, it appeared alive with all the infected that were now shrieking in frustration. Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out a MK-124 flare and felt for the night end of the tubular device with its two ridges. Next, he pulled off the rubber cap and slid the activator into position before depressing it with his thumb. Night turned to day as the brilliant magnesium began to burn. Levine threw the signal side arm to avoid getting any melting magnesium on him. Watching the flare arc in its flight, he took cover behind the hill before the flare came into contact with the fuel’s fumes. He lay there, ready to use another flare, when a gigantic whoosh sound blasted from the other side of the hill as it became brighter than day with a silvery white cloud floating up into the sky from the valley.
Waiting a few minutes for the heat to come down, he climbed back to the top of the hill and looked down. The sides of the hill were torched black, thousands of blackened corpses littered the valley floor. The top of the pond of fuel burned blue. The smell of charred flesh overwhelmed the smell of burning fuel. Fuck this, I’m done! Levine felt the tears pouring down his face as he made his way back down to the Stryker. He could swear he smelled like the corpses. “We’re the fuck outta here, try not to breathe any of that crap, its toxic as hell.” He forced his way through the rear of the Stryker, wanting only to get to his seat. “Close the ramp, driver, get us the hell out of here and back to the airport. I need a fucking shower. Bad.”
The monitors were set up to show all ten of the killing fields. Both Peters and Davis watched in silence, their faces devoid of emotion. When the flare up, signaling the death of 2000 infected showed on the screen, a lieutenant shouted in glee at the spectacle.
“Son, why are you cheering the killing of over 2000 Americans?” The question was rhetorical and Peters turned away from the lieutenant without waiting for an answer. How many more nights will there be like tonight before we can really begin to rebuild our country? He looked back at the monitors as another killing field collapsed the walls of a giant quarry with explosives, entombing hundreds. After the bright flash, the site was invisible under a huge gray cloud of dust covering the entire area. The last killing field, another quarry, held a thousand infected, trapped by blocking the only way in and out with semi-trailers. If that works when the sun rises, we’ll have to duplicate it again to save on our resources.
A dull ache in the back of his head told Peters it was time to call it a day. “Ladies and gentlemen, I will see some of you tomorrow when I return here at 0630 to see how the Zs here react to the sun. Hopefully, the sun will be 100% lethal to them and make our job easier. BG Davis, what time does part two of our operation begin tomorrow to clear out the town?”
“Sir, the first groups will be heading out at 0700. For this operation, we have formed fifty 10- man teams for house-to-house clearing. We will also have twenty Strykers prepositioned throughout the town, should we have any surprises. The west side of town will be given the most emphasis to getting cleared first since the river helps make that part of town more easily defensible with only four bridges crossing the river,” BG Davis replied.
“That sounds promising, Jim. As much as I want the town cleared out, we have to remember it’s a long road to clearing the state. We don’t want to burn out our troops early. We may have to take one from the Marines and call every man and woman a rifleman just to ensure everyone gets downtime. G’night, all.”
The terminal was alive with people talking about having a place to eat and wash. There were mixed feelings about bringing civilians to ‘their’ base. Most people hushed when they saw the general enter the building. He gave a big smile and a short wave before heading to what had been Operations. A Specialist sat guard outside the door and jumped to attention when he came closer to the door.
“Good evening, General Peters.” The young Specialist squeaked out. Peters couldn’t resist grinning
“Son, who’d you upset to get the job of being my babysitter” Peters smiled as he waited for what he thought would be a funny answer.
“Sir, I was part of a detail selected personally by Col Nguyen. We’re the Peterson Six. There’s a junior officer aide, an enlisted aide, a driver, and three personal security guards. They told us you’re the most important man in the military at this moment and you need protection and shouldn’t have to bother with any BS. Your aides are in your quarters now.” The king will have his royal court; there is some logic to it. I should have been the one to make the call. “Thank you. Specialist Cohen.”
The operations office seemed roomier. Everything had been cleared out except one desk in the corner, a large laptop and printer sat on it along with a desk lamp. A partition blocked off the corner where his sleeping bag had been, now he was looking a very wide derriere tightly encased in OCPs bent over a bed in the corner. He coughed lightly and the Sergeant making the bed labored to stand upright. The Sergeant appeared to Peters to be in her tenth month of pregnancy.
“Good evening, General Peterson. I’m Sgt Zilkha, your new enlisted aide. Please excuse the mess. We were just assigned to your staff this morning. We’ll try to get everything ship shape as soon as possible.”
“Isn’t that the Navy, Sgt?” Peters asked trying not to laugh.
“It may have been at one time, Sir. Now it’s the Army way.” She replied jovially.
“Then what would the Air Force way be?” Peters fought not to laugh as he cracked a smile.
“General Peterson, the Air Force way is any way you want it.”
“I think we are going to get along well. What should I call you, Sergeant Zilkha?”
“Sir, my previous superiors have called me everything from Sergeant Zilkha to Suzy. I have no preference.”
Suzy started to look a little more at ease.
“Then I’ll call you Suzy if it’s all the same. My brilliant abilities of observation make me believe that you may be pregnant. I do not want you to do anything that is uncomfortable for you, or that may cause you injury. You can call me either Sir or General Peters. You are dismissed for the night.”
“Yes, Sir, the boys and I stripped out the closet in the corner and put in a bar to hang your clothes. We also put up shelves for your clothing and personal effects. The laptop on the desk is tied in to the local area network. An Air Force communication troop came by today and set it up for you. What would you like for breakfast, Sir?”
“Thanks Suzy, go ahead and call it a night.” That’s some crew they put together for me, it’s a shame I’m going to make them get real jobs tomorrow. Maybe keep one or two since I don’t have a wife to pick up my slack. That bed is calling my tired ass.
Peterson AFB, Colorado. April 3, 2029
That’s a neat trick Caleb. How can you wake up hot and cold at the same time? Opening his eyes, he realized he was on the floor of the armory again. I have to stop making a habit of this. A woman was wrapped around his leg and across his belly, she felt warm and soft. She sensed him begin to stir and took her head off his chest to look at him. Her face was still pleasant, but her innocent, fully-dilated eyes looked at him like an unspoken accusation that he’d infected her. He lay there and stroked her hair, thinking of what should be done.
I can just pop her and it’s over but she’s alive, she’s not a monster. Or is she, now? Fuck it, when I’m ready to leave, I’ll leave the door cracked so she can get out when it gets dark. My job now is to get back to the squadron. No more sex for me. Son of a bitch!
The woman was insistent she wanted to mate with him; with mixed feelings, he let his small head make the decision for him. The woman napped afterwards as he went to the sofa and found his clothing. A shower sure would be nice; between my own body odor and the Zs rubbing against me, I stink.
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