Herbert finally responded, “I think Senator Cornell is the man we’re looking for, sir.”
“Parker?” Victor asked.
“He’s a politician,” Parker stated. “Good record. No scandals I’m aware of. Prior service, even if it was with the Tenth. We could do a lot worse and probably not much better, sir.”
Cornell acknowledged Parker with a nod.
Jarmusch looked at a major seated across the table from him, a Guard officer named Glennon. “Pat? Have an opinion to share?”
Major Glennon glanced up at Jarmusch then went back to studying his big hands. Cornell thought he had working man’s hands, the kind one might find on a construction worker or auto mechanic. His short blond hair was speckled with a liberal dose of gray, and his features were big and blunt. Aside from Parker, he appeared to be the most physically intimidating man in the room, but his demeanor was of a different sort. He seemed reluctant to speak.
“Go on, Major,” Cornell said. “You have the floor. If you have doubts, now’s the time.”
“I’m just an assistant manager of a Home Depot, down in Allentown,” Glennon said. “I’m not the kind of guy who gets to pick a president, other than by casting a vote.”
“So vote,” Victor said.
Glennon shook his head. “Sorry, sirs. This one isn’t for me.”
“You have a voice here, Major,” Cornell said. “Everything about this is unusual. So even if you’re uncomfortable with what’s going on, you should still speak up. There won’t be any retribution either way. Correct, Colonel Jarmusch?”
Jarmusch seemed startled by the question. “Of course not, sir. I’m not in charge of what people think, only of this post.” He looked across the table at Glennon. “Come on, Glennon. Out with it.”
“I don’t think I want to be part of this,” Glennon said. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Major,” Cornell said. “I’ll consider your reluctance to be a no, which does not offend me in any way. I have to earn everyone’s trust, and if I don’t have yours yet, then that’s how it should be.”
“Anyone else?” Victor asked.
No one in the room said anything. Victor nodded and crossed his arms, looking down at Jarmusch. “Alex?”
Jarmusch looked miserable. “I’m having a tough time getting behind this.”
Victor turned to Cornell. “Senator, the motion seems to be in your favor by plurality. How do you want to handle this?”
“Quietly for the moment, Colonel Victor.” Cornell tried to make eye contact with each man at the table. “Gentlemen, as officers of the US military, you have all heard what has transpired here today and bear witness to it. I now ask you not to let what was said leave this room. I do not wish to announce this until such time that we have determined that I am, in fact, the remaining senior member of the US government. Until then, you should operate as normal, following the orders of those appointed above you. I will bear full responsibility for any orders that I issue to the military while filling the office of the president of the United States, even if my authority is later found to be invalid.”
Cornell had never heard a silence that could be called deafening until that moment. He could see that no one really knew what to think, not even Victor. They were all bearing witness to a historical event, whether they liked it or not.
Surprisingly, Jarmusch spoke first. “I can at least agree to that, sir.”
“Same here, sir,” Victor added.
Cornell nodded. “Then if no one has anything to add, let’s move forward and discuss what our courses of action are. Has there been any progress with analyzing the collected blood samples?”
*
Hastings stared at a remote video terminal displaying the feed from a Shadow unmanned aerial vehicle. The UAV was flying a reconnaissance mission along the route he had identified earlier.
“Sir, we’re coming up on the rail yard,” the UAV operator told him. The console was consisted of several widescreen computer monitors mounted behind a desk that held a keyboard and two sets of flight controls. The operator manipulated the controls, and the commands were transmitted over an encrypted link to the distant Raven aerial vehicle.
Hastings studied the imagery being broadcast from the Raven. To him, it looked like some hopped-up flight simulator. “Okay. Set the UAV in an orbit around it when it gets there, I need to be able to determine if there’s a train engine there or not. Sergeant Ballantine, can you ask the locomotive engineer to come over and look at the feed? Uh, what was his name again?”
“Lieutenant Munn, sir. I’ll go and get him. You want me to bring back any chow for you?” Ballantine asked as he got to his feet.
“No, I’m good. But if you can scrounge up a can of Copenhagen, that would be great,” Hastings said, smiling. He knew Ballantine hated the stuff with a passion.
Ballantine rolled his eyes and laughed as he walked off. Hastings turned back to the video feed as the UAV passed Reading Municipal Airport. The propeller-driven aircraft was getting close to its fifty-kilometer range, but the UAV operator had assured Hastings that they wouldn’t lose the feed and that the Shadow’s sensors would have no problem visualizing the rail yard three and a half kilometers farther downrange.
Hastings spotted a few small groups of reekers wandering around the streets below the Shadow. “Can you switch to FLIR?”
“Yes, sir. You do know that it will only show objects radiating heat, right?”
“I know. I’m just curious to see how the reekers look through infrared. We also might be able to see if there are any survivors in the area.”
The color image switched over to a display of grays and blacks. Most of the reekers showed up as cold objects, dark man-shaped shadows that tottered across the screen. Hastings had expected as much. But to his surprise, every once in a while he spotted a shambler that still sported a bit of a white glow. The brighter hue indicated radiant heat.
“Why do some of those reekers have a heat signature to them?” Hastings asked.
The operator shrugged. “My guess is that they’re newly turned and aren’t completely cold yet, sir.”
“Get some stills of the airfield in both camera modes before you start on the rail yard.”
Behind him, Ballantine said, “Sir, this is Lieutenant Munn.”
Hastings turned around. He had expected Ballantine to be accompanied by a young man, as lieutenants were junior officers in the Army. Instead, he was momentarily surprised to see a man at least a decade older than he was. He had to remind himself that the National Guard had older people in their ranks. “Lieutenant, I’m told you know how to drive a train,” Hastings said.
“Yes, sir. I’m a locomotive engineer, been doing it for about twelve years now. What can I do for you?”
“I need you to look at this UAV video feed. The system is currently over Reading and showing the rail yard. I need you to see if you can locate a locomotive we can use to bring shipping containers and supplies back to Indiantown Gap. If we can find an engine, I need you to drive it and work out any other logistical issues needed to move a train. Any problems with that from your side?”
“No, sir. None at all. All my certificates are current.” Munn stepped forward and looked down at the display.
“We’re also going to task the UAV to look at the rail yard south of here, down in Rutherford,” Hastings said. “Oh, I was told that there are others here with railroad experience. Later on, I’ll need you to round them up and come up with a plan on how to make all of this happen. My intent is to find shipping containers and bring them back to Indiantown to fortify the base perimeter, as well as to block avenues of approach from the bigger cities. We’ve already identified locations and choke points. We just need a way to move the containers around and emplace them.”
Munn nodded. “There are a few more people here that work the railroad, sir. Shouldn’t be a problem do what you’re asking.”
“Good to hear. Take a look at the video feed, and let me know
if you see what you need. I think there are a couple of engines in the yard, but I don’t know their status. That’s where you come in.” Hastings got up and offered his chair to Munn. The older lieutenant nodded his thanks and took a seat.
“Ballantine, any progress on finding people capable of driving semis yet?” Hastings asked.
“Oh, yeah. We’ve identified several who are actually qualified and licensed, and a few more who know how to drive but aren’t licensed. That was pretty easy to do. I just went over and spoke to the Motor Pool sergeant. He wrote up a list of troops who can drive, including those we can use in a bind.”
“Well, this qualifies as a bind in my book,” Hastings said. “Make sure those personnel are kept in the loop and ready to go when this kicks off. I don’t expect there to be keys in the visors of any rigs we find, so make sure we have someone capable of overcoming that issue, as well as any locked doors.”
“Will do, sir. We also have trucks in the motor pool that can haul containers and trailers if push comes to shove.”
Lieutenant Munn looked up from the screen. “Sir, you were right. I see four engines in the yard.”
Hastings focused back on the RVT.
“Here and here,” Munn said, pointing out the locations. “Those are the engines we’ll need. We’re in luck. It looks like they were unloading recently, too. There’s a container crane on site. You can see the boom right there, along with quite a few flatbed cars.” He moved his finger a few centimeters. “These are all coal cars along this track over here. This is a hump yard, so not much gets loaded or unloaded here. Hump yards are just where cars are dropped off or picked up to go to their final destination. It looks like these four engines were either dropping off or picking up but never left.”
“So can we use the engines there and move along the tracks to pick up the containers?” Hastings asked.
“Yes, sir, I believe we can. I can take a few of the other rail guys with me to help disconnect the engines from those cars, then we can hook up the flatbed cars. We’ll put two engines on each end of the consist. That way, we can run both directions without having to turn an engine around.”
Hastings held up a hand. “Sorry. Consist?”
Munn smiled. “That’s what an element of railcars is called, sir. A consist.”
“Oh. All right. Go on.”
“I figure we could pull around two hundred to two hundred fifty container cars, especially if they’re empty. There is some grade to take into consideration, but I’m thinking we could easily move four hundred shipping containers on one train. Providing we can find that many, that is.”
“We’ll use the UAV to find them,” Hastings said. “Sounds like you’re an expert on this stuff, Lieutenant. What else?”
Munn nodded at the screen. “I don’t see too many dead in the area, but we’ll need security. Trains aren’t quiet, and what we’ll need to do is going to make a lot of noise.”
“How much time will you need on site to make all of that happen?”
“It’s hard to guess, sir. Depends on what kinds of problems we run into once we’re on the ground. If everything goes without a hitch, it’ll take several hours just to configure the cars. I’ll have to start up each engine and go through the checklist procedures before I can even move the engines.” Munn spread his hands. “There just isn’t a fast way to go about this, sir.”
Hastings sighed. It wasn’t the best news in the world, but everything Munn said made sense. He certainly seemed thorough enough.
“I understand,” Hastings said. “I’ll make sure you have the security you need. Go ahead and identify the personnel you’ll need for this operation. I’ll leave it to you to plan on how best to accomplish the tasks that need to be done. Let either Sergeant Ballantine or me know when you’re ready to issue the OPORD to your people, and one of us will sit in on it. Just focus on what your people will need to do once we are on the objective. I’ll handle getting us there and the rest.”
The UAV operator gasped. “Sir, you might want to take a look at this.”
Hastings and Ballantine turned back to the RVT. On the screen, what looked to be a small group of survivors in some sort of mall complex were busily loading food from one of the restaurants into their vehicles. Unfortunately, a growing number of zombies were converging on them. Some of the survivors began shooting at the dead. Several necrotic bodies fell in the parking lot, while some merely hitched and stumbled. Other zombies actually tripped over the newly dispatched dead, and for a moment, Hastings thought the survivors might have a chance. But the numbers of the dead were too great, and they advanced upon the living like a slow-moving swarm.
Those people need to get the hell out of there.
As if reading his mind, the survivors abandoned the restaurant and fell back to their vehicles—but they were already out of time. Three reekers pulled down one of the survivors trying to provide cover fire while the rest of the group retreated. Even though there was no audio, Hastings could hear the clamor of the fight in his mind. He’d been there. He knew what it was like.
As the rest of the group hustled back to their vehicles, the first of the runners hit. The fast-moving zombie tore past its slower brethren and darted across the pavement. A man with a thick beard and long hair fired at it with a shotgun. Either he missed or he was firing bird shot, because the zombie took him down like a defensive end sacking a quarterback. Two members of the group stopped and tried to help their fallen comrade. More runners came at them, and slower moving shamblers closed in on the trio.
Hastings glanced at Ballantine. The big sergeant’s eyes were fixed on the screen. They both knew how the story was going to end, but they couldn’t stop looking at the video feed.
Fighting the dead on all sides, the three remaining survivors managed to make it back to one of the vehicles. One pulled open the driver’s door of the panel van and scrambled in behind the wheel. The second was laying down cover fire, but the third was apparently out of ammunition because he was swinging his rifle around like a club. Both fell beneath the swarm, fighting to the end, even as they were being eaten alive.
The last survivor managed to close the van door just in time. An instant later, the vehicle was completely surrounded by a massive ring of dead. The van began to rock from side to side as the corpses pounded at it with lifeless hands.
If the van be rockin’, don’t be knockin’. The inane slogan ran through Hastings’s mind, and he shook his head to clear it.
The van pushed forward through the sea of the dead, knocking the ghouls to the pavement. The vehicle bumped and lurched as ran over the corpses, leaving a wake of broken bodies—bodies that still squirmed and tried to give chase, despite the damage done to their extremities. More reekers piled up at the front bumper, and the vehicle slowed, bogged down by the mass of putrid flesh opposing it. Hastings could imagine the panicked driver gunning the engine in a bid for freedom. The van lurched forward again in a rising cloud of burning rubber and exhaust. The vehicle broke through the cordon of bodies, sending several flying through the air as it careened around the parking lot, fishtailing now and then, as if out of control. After barely missing a light post, the driver recovered control, and the van sped off down the road.
“Do you want me to continue tracking the vehicle, sir?” the UAV operator asked. He sounded exhausted, as if he had been the one trying to escape the reekers.
“No. Return the camera to the objective area and continue to gather as much imagery of the roadways on the route I gave you earlier. I want to know if there are any obstructions or wrecks along the route. I’ll need that information for the ground movement plan of the operation,” Hastings said.
“Yes, sir. We’ll let you know if we find anything like that.”
*
Ballantine and Hastings walked back to the barracks. There was something reassuring about being around your own people, and Ballantine found that hanging with his family made him feel a bit better. Hell, he even looked forward to checking
in on the remaining troops from TF Manhattan—the guys were like extended family, even the loudmouth Stilley. As they stepped into the barracks building, Guerra turned and make a beeline for them.
Ballantine frowned. Guerra looked a little amped up, and Ballantine wondered what it was that got his rockets fired up. Sometimes, extended family could be a pain in the ass. “Hey, Hector, how are things panning out? Any issues?”
“Everything is going good,” Guerra said. “Hey, sir,” he called as Hastings walked past.
“Hey, Guerra.” Hastings gave him an abbreviated wave and kept on going.
“The men have knocked out the vehicles and ammo,” Guerra said, turning back to Ballantine. “Everything is cleaned, loaded up, and the vehicles are topped off. We also managed to consolidate a lot of shipping containers and ISU-90s right here on the base. They had a detail start arranging them around the critical buildings already.”
“Really? Well, good job, Hector.”
Guerra nodded. “They also consolidated people into barracks and living areas that are easier to defend, so we were able to use fewer containers than we thought we’d need. A lot of the facilities already have eight-foot fences around them, so they decided to leave them as they are since no one should be in those areas for very long. We figured fewer people to attract any attention, fewer reekers showing up, right? And the fences keep the area secure anyway, so we shouldn’t have to re-clear areas or have any surprises.”
“How many more containers will we need to finish everything?” Ballantine asked.
“The S3 is working the numbers and prioritizing which remaining sites will get whatever containers we bring back here. The airfield is still the priority, of course, and we’ll need more containers to finish it. It’s a big area to cover, compared to the other sites. But that’s not the half of it.”
These Dead Lands: Immolation Page 19