“Nine Privates, three Specialists and a Staff Sergeant, all hospitalized...” Major sharp said, swishing the cup of brandy he was nursing. “I admit, Lieutenant, it will be a miracle if I don’t end up a Private myself after this.”
Daniel laughed a little. He was drunk already, this was true, but now wasn’t the time to hang on ceremony and decorum. “Watch this one, Sir.” He said, replaying a segment of footage. A somewhat plump and almost simple looking country boy that had gone unnoticed by Daniel before, except for his height, picked up an OpFor and threw him over the walls that made up the borders of the training village. He then threw another zombie into the group of zombies already trying to flee. They fell like bowling pins and were pounced by a dozen more Soldiers with clubs, knives and hammers.
“Did anyone go see if that man was okay?” Sharp laughed, downing the last of his brandy and pouring another generous cup for himself and Daniel.
“Yeah, that was Staff Sergeant Gander, the one in the hospital. He landed on the turret of a camera truck. Fractured two ribs and broke his ankle.” Daniel confirmed. “I confess, I’m impressed nobody was actually killed. It was a bit of brilliance to make the OpFor wear body armor, though. If anything that will save our asses.”
There was a knock at the door to Sharp’s office. “Enter.” He shouted, preparing for a pissed off superior to kick the door down.
The door opened gently, and a large black man stood in the center of it. “Lieutenant Donovan, reporting as ordered, Sir.” He started to salute, but then realized he was looking at his new CO and a fellow officer sitting around in their civvies watching combat footage.
“Come in, Lieutenant.” Sharp tried to stand, but it was too quickly and he fell back in his chair. “Pardon me, I’m just… drunk.”
Lieutenant Donovan sat and took his uniform top off. New regulations for an Army that was often in uniform for so long that owning civilian clothes was pointless, stated that as a signifier of being off duty the removal of the uniform top and cover was sufficient enough to engage in off duty activities. Sharp poured another glass for their new comrade and restarted the footage from his tablet.
“It’s a shame you weren’t there for this.” Daniel teased.
“My bird didn’t land until twenty minutes ago.” Donovan watched the footage as it cycled through. He had to stifle his own laughter when the lines broke, but in all honesty that was a deadly combination of insubordination and insanity. “I think most of your boys here are Section Eight, Major. And the Army doesn’t regularly use that clause anymore.”
“It’s my fault.” Sharp was apparently only modest when intoxicated. “I pulled men from the Behavioral Reconditioning Units. Most of the people who’ve been out in the wild are just a bit bat-shit, so I figured if they could just be worked with they would make an effective zombie killing force.”
Daniel shrugged. “We can work with this, Sir. We’ll work on discipline and team oriented fighting. Weed out the ones we can’t work with, and use this,” Daniel pushed play so they could see Bubba Hulk throw Sergeant Gander over the wall again, “borderline psychotic behavior to our advantage. Sure, our tactics are more Civil War-esque than they are modern, but when we go into cities and shit having people who can throw zombies over a fucking wall is going to be a huge asset.”
“Well, tomorrow.” Sharp gave up trying to stand. “Okay tomorrow is FTX/Hangover recovery, but the day after tomorrow, we begin. The two of you draw up a plan for disciplining the troops, but no punitive actions. Not yet. It was… premature to put them all into a fight like this. It might have been too realistic.” Sharp looked at Daniel, “Did the OpFor make you afraid?”
“No.” Daniel admitted. “But then I was on the inside of planning this. The men were meant to be in the dark about it. Maybe next time we should just use Pop-Up Ivans.”
This time Lieutenant Donovan had the spark of genius. “Or maybe we should just use real Vics.”
Sharp and Daniel both looked at their new man like he had lost his mind. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there. I almost got picked up by DHS for fighting my way out of DC. Read between the lines and imagine what I had to do to accomplish that.”
Donovan smirked and tipped his glass toward Daniel. “I’ve been in the same situation. That’s how you get assigned to this unit. You gotta kill zombies, a lot of ‘em. Shoot ‘em in the face, smash ‘em in the brain, blow their fucking heads off if you can. I have a personal Vic count bordering on four digits. I’ve been frontline Infantry since we ended Iraq, seen more shit than either of you POGs will in a lifetime, and I’m not apologizing for smashing some plague ridden corpse until it’s black paste on a rock. So let’s use real Vics.”
Daniel clapped in approval for Donovan’s speech. “You’ll never get me to admit anything.” He smiled, toasting his glass in return.
“I’ll arrange it.” Sharp said, turning the footage off. “See you, in…” He checked his watch, started tilting forward and never righted himself. The major face-planted into the coffee table and ended his night wearing about half a bottle of brandy and a broken whiskey glass.
Chapter 13
A wartime army is always different than a peacetime army. Sounds like common sense, yet the difference is only apparent to those who’ve seen both. For the men who’d been in the Armed Forces before the dead started not staying dead, keeping drafted civilians in line without violating their civil rights and being jailed for abuse was nearly impossible. The stick made conscripts rebellious, and the carrot made them greedy. It occurred to Daniel once or twice that a cattle prod might be helpful when spending long afternoons practicing open field tactics that had been stricken from the books more than a century before. It couldn’t be any more ineffective than bribing them with a weekend off, so why not? If he had to remind one more of these frakwits to keep their fucking hands out of their fucking pockets… well, he might do something to lose his shiny new bar and spend the rest of the war in an air conditioned prison.
Another new officer, Captain Rambo (no relation), was in charge of VR1 while Major Sharp did some politicking to get the right resources for his pet project. Rambo didn’t want to be in charge of anything, he just wanted to chew tobacco and watch everyone practice as if he were some kind of coach on the sidelines. Daniel didn’t envy the amount of paperwork Sharp would have upon return, but he was certain Cpt. Rambo had made no attempt to do any of it.
“Sir.” Daniel’s second in command, a Staff Sergeant named Kemper, stood at attention behind him. “First Platoon is formed and ready for battle drills.”
Daniel nodded, going through his checklist while Captain Rambo looked on from the pulpit. In reality Daniel was drawing a flip-book animation of a stick figure being run over by a rock through all the corners of his notebook, in his mind pretending it was Cpt. Rambo. Asking the henchman of an officer to do more than just stay out of the way might have been a detriment to the war effort anyhow, so Daniel hadn’t gone to him to request permission to march the unit away yet. They were ready, Daniel had singled out the ones who didn’t like to listen to orders in the face of the enemy and let them take their chances in the Mortuary Affairs units (24/7 burial and bio-removal detail.) After that, the most effective tool he found in instilling discipline was to waste his Soldier’s free time. Now none of them had the leisure to think about anything but their jobs lately. He’d loosen their schedules soon, but for now he’d gotten the results he wanted.
“Excuse me, Sir, but shouldn’t we get going?” Kemper stood at ease when he figured out what Daniel was doing. “You’re drawing the head too large as the pages go on, Sir.”
Daniel let the side of his face not facing the Captain Rambo’s vacant stare crack a smile. “I’m not a friggin’ artist, Sergeant, but you know how the Skipper is about his fuckin’ checklists. ‘Never too prepared.’” Daniel quoted in a subtly mocking tone. “Here’s the list of coordinates we’ll be humping it to.” He handed the list to SSgt Kemper.
The career NCO
read the list. It was just one coordinate, and it was one he knew. “Round Top Lake, Sir?”
“Yep.” Daniel put the clipboard back in his ruck. “Until the Major gets back we might as well take the time to smell the roses, assuming refugees haven’t eaten them all.”
Kemper nodded. “Glad I packed my swimming trunks.”
“Aren’t we all.” Daniel watched his Second walk away and made his own path towards Captain Rambo. “Sir. Permission for First Platoon to depart on FTX?”
Rambo barely looked up from his daydreaming. “What? Oh, yeah. Permission granted. Just maintain radio contact, would ya? I want accountability at all times.”
“Yessir.” Daniel saluted and walked away, making a mental note to turn the radio off immediately before his superior magically remembered something for them to do. Rambo could talk on and on about the most irrelevant shit, often repeating himself when he ran out of new things to say. Wherever Sharp had dug this guy up it had bettered be worth the effort and annoyance bringing him here. Around the other side of the building the platoon was formed in three neat rows, ready to march out. Here was the part Daniel liked. Marching off in parade formation. Was it unnecessary in a modern military? Sure, but there was something to be said for the pride and espri de corps a Soldier gains by looking like a Soldier.
“Platoon!” Daniel shouted in a commanding voice. “Attennnnntion. Heeerrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiight… Hace! Afowaaaaard! March!” For having never been a Drill Sergeant or even a cadet for long, Daniel was quite proud of his seldom practiced command voice.
Once the platoon had marched to the end of the row of buildings where Captain Rambo could still see, Daniel turned the reins over to Staff Sergeant Kemper and let him form them into a tactical column of twos. A block from there Daniel ordered them into a parking lot, a change from the plan he’d shared with SSgt Kemper, and revealed a gift he’d strong armed his mother into providing for the unit. Two brand new, Air Force owned and maintained buses with air conditioning and heat for any climate were waiting for them.
“What?” Daniel shrugged with a smile when Kemper raised an eyebrow. “I don’t wanna walk. Do you?”
“No, Sir.” Kemper shrugged in return and boarded the bus after counting his men. Soft guitar music played over the speakers and most of the seats reclined. A trip that should have taken a couple of hours took fifteen minutes with light traffic, and the Air Force already had the bivouac set up for them when they got there. Inflatable tents with climate control, a shower facility and a mess-tent. It genuinely didn’t get better than that for ground pounders.
A second lieutenant in Air Force tiger stripes was standing under the chow area’s awning supervising the unloading of food and equipment when Daniel made his way up to her. She was pretty, had dark hair made tight in a regulation bun, and she tanned well. His mother had sent her here on purpose, she was just Daniel’s type and he was definitely supposed to meet her. He’d have to figure out who she was connected to in order to decide how badly his mother wanted him to be a part of this young lady’s life, and what might be in it for him.
Daniel saluted, “Good morning, Ma’am.” It wasn’t necessary for officers of the same rank to salute one another, but it was common courtesy when reporting to someone else’s camp, especially if they’d already done the hard part for you.
She returned the salute without putting her clipboard down. “You must be General Brown’s son. I’m Lieutenant Kelly Hallstead, I work in your mother’s office.”
Daniel shook her hand. Keep it professional for now, he thought. “Well, thank you very much for working with me on this. I wanted my guys to have something good to look back on when we’re outside. It’s going to be a long fight.” He made an effort not to look at her tits.
Hallstead nodded. “The longest. And it’s only going to get worse the longer the Rebel States refuse to cooperate with us. It makes a united front against the plague a fantasy.”
“A hundred years from now, whether we win or lose, someone’s going to look back on this point in history and wonder, why didn’t we just stay the course?” Daniel added, almost finishing Hallstead’s sentence.
“Exactly.” Lt. Hallstead turned her attention to one of the crates being offloaded, apparently it was fragile, but then back to Daniel while he dumped his gear in a corner. Seems she was interested in the conversation and not in the business at hand. “The first plague victims that were locked up in quarantine are already showing signs of a diminished ability to hunt for a fresh host. We’re only a year or two away from them rotting completely.”
“How’s that tested?” Daniel opened his canteen and drank. He actually liked water.
Looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear, Hallstead leaned in closer. She smelled like lilacs. “When your little camping trip is over, maybe I can arrange a tour of the facility, that is if General Brown hasn’t shown you already.”
Restraining the urge to say something cheesy, like it could be our little camping trip, Daniel settled for something more becoming. “I’m genuinely interested, Miss Hallstead. Any insight you or the Air Force could provide for my unit would save lives. It’s my goal to bring as many people home alive as I can, I’d be a fool to pass up on a chance to learn something.”
Hallstead couldn’t help but smile now. Her rank and position probably kept most men from reaching that high, but Daniel Sawyer knew no such bounds now. “I’ll make it happen.” She agreed almost too quickly.
“Speaking of making something happen.” Daniel turned to his approaching platoon sergeant, “Are the men ready to be formed up?”
“Yessir.” He saluted Hallstead as he approached. “I still haven’t told them what’s up, Sir. They think we’re guarding an Air Force summer camp.”
“Oh good.” Daniel smiled to the new apple of his eye. He wanted to say watch this, but he didn’t have to, she already was. He approached the platoon and called them to attention. With a scowling face he inspected four or five random Soldier’s uniforms, said nothing, but corrected a few things himself. Then started calling the commands every member of the US Army hates to hear. The signifier your day is about to fucking suck. “Half right… Face! Front leaning rest position…” The tension mounted, the men and women readied themselves to get sand and dirt in places they’d never get it out of again when suddenly Daniel said, “Belay that. Half left, Face. Enjoy the weekend, guys. Here’s Sergeant Kemper with your routine, informative, pre-canned Weekend Safety Brief.” He said, unzipping his uniform top and walking off just as quickly as he’d come, leaving his men as bewildered as they were happy.
He could hear the Army tradition of wasting everyone’s Friday afternoon by reminding them of things they already knew, don’t drink and drive cars you no longer have access to, don’t have sex with married people, always wrap your tool, etc etc. Staff Sergeant Kemper had some pretty good sermons, and both officers found themselves listening in.
“Shut up, all of you. This is the only time I have a captive audience, so I’m gonna enjoy it. I’d like to begin with the standard issue don’t drink and drive, don’t commit a crime, don’t stray more than two miles from the bivouac, and lastly don’t violate the Army Values, Hooah?” The real Soldiers responded with the appropriate battlecry, the draftees mostly a mumble of understanding. “As for the personal note, don’t screw your friends, and don’t screw your friend’s friends. Don’t screw someone you’re not married to, or don’t plan to be married to shortly. Don’t screw someone who’s married to someone else either. Can’t believe I have to say that one. Don’t get drunk and flip off any officers, and lastly don’t do drugs… but if you do, remember to share with the whole class.” Kemper called them to attention and dismissed the platoon. Somehow he managed to be the first one in the lake despite being on the opposite side of the group of Soldiers when he dismissed them.
As the evening wore on dinner chow was served like a buffet, just trickle in and eat what and when you wanted. Daniel took the distraction to
convince the bus drivers that everyone who was going back to town was already on the buses, and just like that he had the whole night to convince Lieutenant Kelly Hallstead that he was the man she wanted to pay attention to. Granted, she was mildly upset that she wouldn’t be sleeping in her own bed tonight, but Daniel played it off as no big deal and invited her into the “Tactical Operations Center” where the radio was.
“I have a cell phone, there’s no need to use a radio to call the buses.” She said, putting her hands on her hips. Not many women could make fatigues look good, and she was certainly the minority.
“I wasn’t planning to call the buses, but thanks for telling me I get cell service out here. Gonna make some prank calls to Rambo’s personal phone later.” He smiled and keyed in the Company Headquarters. After his third time saying, “Valhalla Base this is Valkyrie Six, respond,” Captain Rambo’s overnight office aid finally answered with a simple and almost annoyed sounding Go Ahead. “Valhalla Base, is Thor Six available?”
“Negative, um… break… Valkyrie Six, is your unit ready to move?”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, “Negative, Valhalla Base. Our transport has already left.”
“Valkyrie Six, gear up and unbox emergency readiness kits. Standby for coordinates, break, prepare for imminent attack at the following... N41.19 by W104.89. Outbreak Protocol is in effect.”
“Shit!” Hallstead flipped the white light lantern next to the radio to red and handed it to a nearby Soldier, “Raise the alarm, Viral outbreak, everyone gear up. Noise Discipline is an order!”
“Yes, Ma’am!” He said, running outside and shouting to anyone who could hear. No sirens were activated, those were zombie magnets and wouldn’t be used except for a decoy.
Daniel had his riot gear on before Hallstead was done giving the orders to virtually panic. He made a split second decision and gave her his shield. It had spikes at the top for dropping the shield down on top of a Vic’s head and he told her how to use it quickly. Before he zipped up the tent and rant to his men, Lieutenant Hallstead grabbed Daniel and kissed him like you’d see in the romance movies or a sweeping war epic.
World of Ashes II Page 23