“That’s a good idea.”
It took about ten minutes to set up the jack against the gate and expand it until it snapped a link in the chain. It was reasonably quiet, and after that it was a simple matter of pushing the gate open. After entering the compound, they swung the door closed and Dillon assigned Marty to guard the gate.
“Why are we wasting Marty on that?”
Dillon tried to remember who the fuck this person was that was questioning him….Bob something….
“Bob, we need to be able to stop someone from opening the gate.”
“No, we don’t. We need to know if someone tries to do it so you can react. Why don’t you just park Lauren here in the SUV. If she sees someone trying to open the gate, she’ll honk the horn from the safety of the vehicle.”
It would have been a decent idea, IF Bob hadn’t presented it with a challenging sneer in the middle of the operation.
“Bob, I want you to go with Donnie and get the keys to all of the buses. Donnie knows where they are kept in the GSO shed. You….Jack, come with me so we can get the Suburban keys from the USAID motor pool office.”
Bob stared right into Dillon’s eyes. He knew his plan was better, and he didn’t understand how dangerous it was to change plans and bicker about who had the better idea in the middle of a dangerous situation.
“Now, Bob. Right now, or I’ll leave you where you stand.”
Bob moved off with a defeated look. Dillon realized immediately that he had lost a little more respect in everyone’s eyes. Foreign Service Officers didn’t work like the Military. They didn’t just blindly obey orders. That was a good thing in their line of work. Dillon had resorted to threats to get the job done, threats based on his ability to do violence. In doing that, he had proved himself, as far as Bob and the others were concerned, to be a bully. Perhaps they were right, but he would have to deal with that later.
The vehicles were all started up in less than ten minutes, though they encountered a small crowd of the infected on the way back, it was nothing they couldn’t handle by simply stepping on the gas pedal a bit. The real fight started as soon as they arrived back on compound.
Dillon was happy enough with the success of the mission that he let his guard down a bit. For the next hour, he sat on the floor and played Legos with Mikey while Hannah made dinner. Apparently, the gas was still on, though the water had stopped working. There was plenty of bottled water to brush teeth and cook, but they needed to get out of Cairo soon. Dinner was hearty – a selection of things from the freezer that weren’t going to keep much longer. Rick stopped by after dinner.
“Dillon, we should talk.”
“What’s up, Rick? Are you done with the list?”
“Do you have a few minutes to go outside and talk?”
Dillon looked at Hannah, who shrugged.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Outside, Doc and Talbot were waiting.
“What is this?” Dillon asked, a bit uneasy. “Is this an intervention or something?”
“Or something.” Rick said. “Listen, Dillon, we’re getting more than a few complaints about how you run things. People don’t seem to want you in charge.”
“Who? Bob? He wanted me to change plans in the middle of a mission. That’s not the time. He also felt like he could question me in the middle of a dangerous situation. We can’t have anyone second guessing us in the thick of it.”
“I agree.” said Talbot. “In the military, that’s how we do it.”
“That doesn’t work in the State Department, Dillon.” Doc said.
“It fucking needs to work like that if we’re going to survive.” was Dillon’s crystal clear response.
“Dillon, these guys aren’t soldiers. Their college educated professionals.” said Doc, trying to explain. “You can’t treat these guys like they’re stupid.”
“Careful, Doc. Your bias is showing.” was Dillon’s angry reply.
Rick decided to interject before things got worse. “Doc didn’t say soldiers were stupid. What he means is that you need to adjust your leadership style if you want to work with these people.”
“I think they need to adjust to Dillon’s leadership style. They need to realize that they are FAR from experts at every single skill they will need to survive. Dillon is not. I am not. They need to swallow their pride and do what they are told. They need to quit complaining and start listening. I’m not going to waste time discussing this further, and you shouldn’t either, Dillon.” Talbot seemed to have made up his mind.
“Doc? Rick? I know what you’re thinking, but Talbot’s right. Here’s why: I’m in charge. We don’t have time to argue everything in committee. When we’re out there, we can’t have an argument over what we’re doing. When we make decisions, it has to be someone who knows what the fuck we’re doing. These people clearly have no idea what they’re up against out there.”
“Dillon, stop being so stubborn. You need to compromise!” Dillon felt a little sorry for Rick, but Doc’s words were continuing to anger him.
“No, Doc, I don’t need to compromise. Tomorrow, I am selecting ninety-two people, to include eight drivers. They will be the people that Rick and I believe most qualified to represent the United States in a post-apocalyptic world where growing food has become more important than someone’s ability to write a paper on grain yields. There probably won’t be another plane. How do you think THIS issue will work in a committee?”
“I…um…what if there is another plane?”
“What if, right Doc? What if there is a second plane, and it agrees to wait for us to drive back here, pick up a second load of passengers, and then drive back to the airport. What if the infected don’t hear the planes land and swarm the airport. What if the non-infected don’t do the same. What if the drivers all agree to put their families on the first plane and make the drive, through dangerous areas, to pick up more people.”
“Fat chance of that.” added Rick.
“Damn it, Dillon, I get your point. Do you get mine? You need to stop being an asshole!”
Dillon had to remember that he liked Doc. It took a couple of seconds.
“I get your point, Doc, but I’m trying to show you that I’m not exactly being an asshole. I’m using a different method, a method that most of these people don’t understand and don’t respect. But it’s a tried and true method for surviving dangerous situations. I have to make hard decisions, and not everyone is going to like the results. Hopefully, though, they will survive long enough to hate me or thank me from the safety of the evacuation point.”
“Dillon, I think Doc gets that. We just needed to be able to show the community that we heard them and were willing to speak to you. I, for one, have to try to lead these people – the ones we are leaving behind.”
“What? You aren’t going?” exclaimed a very surprised Doc.
“No. Someone has to try to keep these people safe.”
“Shit.” was Doc’s only answer to that.
“Yeah, Shit.” said Dillon. “So now you know.”
Hannah opened the door and handed Dillon the Sat Phone. “I’m guessing this is for you, hun.”
Dillon laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Special Agent Shay speaking.”
The voice on the other end was a powerful baritone, obviously used to command. He sounded tired. “Special Agent Shay, this is Rear Admiral Covington. I understand you have some personnel to evacuate.”
“Yes, sir. We have 188 personnel in need of evacuation. We have them divided into two chalks of 94 each. Twenty four are kids under the age of five, so we shouldn’t have a problem with the C-130 loads.”
“Son, I don’t think you are reading me clearly. How many U.S. Government PERSONNEL do you have.”
With that, Dillon understood. The Department of Defense was in charge of this evacuation, and had little concern for the families of State Department employees.
“They won’t leave without their families, sir. We’ve prioritize
d the list based on skills we believe will be necessary for survival and rebuilding operations. I can show necessary skills for a great many of the dependents, sir.”
“Damn it, Shay, we aren’t going to be able to take family members. Cyprus is cutting the number of refugees it will take in, and Malta has closed its border. When we arrive tomorrow night, we will have three Ospreys, son. That’s 72 passengers. Active duty and reserve get first seat, followed by medical personnel. No kids. Nobody over the age of 60.”
Sir, I have special operations experience and my wife is a Captain AND a nurse in the U.S. Army. We have one kid, a ten year old. If you want us you take him. We also have an emergency room doctor, here. If you want him, you take his wife. She’s a psychologist. I also have a Captain with a Ranger tab who won’t come unless his wife comes. You are going to need these people, sir.”
There was a long pause on the phone. Dillon hoped that Admiral Covington didn’t just hang up the phone and cancel the flight. Who was HE to put disagree with the Admiral’s plans.
“Special Agent Shay, you have a deal. You will have 72 seats to do with as you must. The birds will land at 2200 local time. Do not be late.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Admiral hung up rather abruptly.
“And again, shit.” Dillon said. He wanted to throw the phone, but knew he would need it later.
“Sounded bad. Thanks for speaking out for us.” Doc said.
“We have 72 seats tomorrow. Though he originally said active duty and reserve personnel first, no kids and nobody over 60, he has agreed to let us put who we want in the seats. There won’t be a second flight. They’re leaving 116 of us behind.“
Rick looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown. “I don’t know how we are going to do this. They won’t go for it.”
“We lie, Rick. We take 92 out to the airport tomorrow. Then, we get as many as we can on the Ospreys. If anyone asks later, we deny prior knowledge. Once everyone is out there, the Navy will do everything they can to stuff as many as possible in those birds. Maybe they end up getting 80 out instead of 72.”
“Jesus. You’re kidding. We can’t do that.”
“Okay, then we wait until tomorrow evening and we deal with it then. As soon as we announce it, we will need to put guards on the vehicles to make sure nobody decides to take their own chances. Violence will be a real possibility. Seventy-two people get in the vans, and we hope to God that they don’t tell us they could have taken five more, or ten more.”
“We should tell them tonight. They have a right to know.” Doc said. Rick seemed paralyzed enough by the stark horror of it to go along with Doc’s decision.
“No. This isn’t your decision to make, Doc. This isn’t Rick’s decision to make, either. If you tell them, we will have problems HERE and we will have them TONIGHT. People will begin arguing and panicking. They will start trying to decide who goes. No, we’re not doing this. The RSO put me in charge. That means the Ambassador put me in charge. Furthermore, the Admiral put me in charge. I have the radio and I have the plan. There will be no committee, and there will be no early warning. I want you to give me all the keys. Furthermore, I will be the only person with the elevator and stairwell lock down keys tonight. They can hate me tomorrow, but we can’t afford panic tonight. Talbot, go with Rick and bring back the keys. Remain under arms and direct anyone outside of their apartments that we are under curfew. You have first watch.”
“No problem, Dillon.”
Dillon “Doc, let me walk you back to your room.”
Dillon tried to be casual about it, but he had just moved from leader to dictator.
Though the night was tense, it passed quickly enough. Dillon took a four hour watch shift, but nothing happened. Morning brought complaints that there was no cold milk for cereal. Gas still worked, and he watched Hannah go from unit to unit showing people that gas burners still worked if you had a lighter. Mikey brought a paper plate heaped with scrambled eggs and diced ham and buttered toast out to Dillon.
“Hi, Daddy. Are we going to the airport today? Do you know where we’re going yet? I hope it’s somewhere new.”
“I’m sure it will be, kiddo. We’re going tonight. Are you all packed?”
“I am. Mom wanted me to pack more clothes, but I thought I might need more food.”
“Well, I’m thinking the Navy will have plenty of MREs, Mikey. What they won’t have is clothes your size. You should also pack some books or your iPad. We might not have power here, but they will wherever we end up, I bet.”
It was more of a hope than a bet. Dillon had no idea what the new world was going to look like. He hoped that, at least in the safe islands, life would continue on much like before the virus, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Things are going to be different, Mikey. I don’t think you’re going to see America anytime soon. I don’t know if you’re going to grow up speaking Greek or Italian or what. But I know that I love you, and I’m going to keep you safe.”
“I love you too, dad.”
Dillon sat with his son for the next hour, saving his toast for last. He let Mikey talk about just about everything, answering when he could get a word in edgewise. Dillon realized that he had not been the best father during the past few days, or even weeks. He had certainly not been the best husband either. He had been distant, but that morning and afternoon he spent some time with Mikey, and hoped he would be able to spend more with him later.
Later in the afternoon, Dillon did a little rooftop reconnaissance, checking out the streets between the compound and the Nile River. He noted which boats were large enough for a hundred and ten people, which boats would have fully stocked kitchens, and where the refueling stations were along the river. From the roof of a four story building, he couldn’t see at least half of what he needed to see, but he could see enough. There were two possible riverboats. One was smaller, and would hold twenty or thirty people. It didn’t have a kitchen or sleeping rooms. The other was larger, built in the style of the old steam powered paddle boats. It was a three deck affair and was likely to have sleeping rooms and a kitchen. It could hold 200 people easily.
It would be a bit difficult to get there. Dillon could see at least a hundred infected on the two streets between them and the river. He doubted that this group of survivors would move very quietly, and there would be noise loading them on board and getting the engines running. During that time, the infected would be swarming to their location. Still, perhaps they could untie and push off a bit before warming up the engines. It would be risky to do so. What if they engines didn’t work? However, it would keep the zombies away.
Dillon laughed and shook his head. They weren’t zombies. No matter what, he couldn’t start thinking that way. Perhaps future generations, living in a world no longer lit by electric lights, would call them zombies. He wouldn’t.
Dillon finished his sketches of the area and headed downstairs to get ready. The sun was going down, which brought with it the flurry of activity as other survivors went on supply runs or made attempts to get from one place to another. This almost always brought on the sound of engines and gunfire, which usually brought a rush of undead to a location. Tonight, it sounded like a military unit was doing something a few miles east of Maadi. The rate of fire was heavy and lasted for at least a half hour, then faded until it was intermittent. By seven o’clock, there was no gunfire from that direction at all.
Dillon grabbed Talbot and Doc and they started going door to door based on their list. Once they had seventy-two people, including themselves, they started loading into vehicles. Dillon gave everyone who could use a weapon an MP-5 and four magazines. When he saw Rick, he went over to apologize and say goodbye.
“Rick….I…”
“Shut up, asshole. You were right, okay?”
“I was going to apologize….”
“You don’t need to.”
“I was going to apologize for being right….” Dillon said with a smirk.
“Jesus�
�.”
“Hey, buddy, I have five MP-5s and about 30 loaded magazines in my unit. Here’s the key. They’re sitting in the living room.”
There were too many people around to say more.
“Right. Hey, I’ll see you back here in a couple of hours.” Rick said, lying. “Don’t lose any vehicles.”
“We won’t, buddy. See you soon.”
“Sure you will.”
Dillon made sure that Hannah and Mikey were in the car with him. Doc and his wife, Marla, were in his vehicle as well. Lauren had proved herself as a good driver, so Dillon had her throw her bag in the back and drive his duty vehicle. They would be the lead vehicle, which meant they would be the ones nudging cars out of the way and making first contact with mobs of infected or angry citizens. Hannah had his USP Compact and an MP-5. She had emptied almost everything out of her purse except bottles of water, a stripped down MRE, a flashlight, and four magazines. She had four others in the pockets of her cargo pants. Doc had his medical bag and Hannah’s. They were as ready as they would ever be. After performing a radio check between vehicles, Dillon pressed the talk button and spoke into it as calmly as he could.
“Open the gate.”
Everyone watched as Rick ordered the gates open. He covered the entrance with his MP-5 as two men quickly and quietly pushed it open.
“Slow roll. Lights out. Stay close. Everyone remember their vehicle number. Sound off. LEAD.”
Dillon listened as the four armored vans and two other Suburbans counted off “ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, and REAR.” Talbot was in the last vehicle with Donnie. Overall, they had 76 people in the convoy. Though Lauren had to bump a few infected, the area was fairly clear, as most seemed to have headed for the gunfight to the east. They encountered two barricades in Maadi. One was large and manned – they steered down a few side streets and avoided it as quickly as they could. The other was small and abandoned, obviously overran days ago. Once LEAD pushed the debris away slowly with the front bumper, it was easy enough to maneuver through. They were on the Ring Road Highway leading to Cairo West Airbase by a quarter before eight. But what they saw from the highway was horrific.
Land of the Dead (Book 1): The Infected Page 7