They could take US 322 just past the city then catch a smaller side road that fed diagonally back into US 934, effectively cutting off a large portion of the route. That would bring him out just south of Annville and US 422, which was where the original route had the convoy turning to head back to the base anyway.
Guerra was starting to feel a bit better about what was coming up. He only had to run it by Hastings. “Lakota One One, Apache One Two. Over.”
“Apache One Two, go. Over.”
“Lakota One One, I want to run something by you and FRAGO the plan if you’re good with it. You have your overhead imagery with you? Over.”
“Affirmative. What do you have in mind? Over.”
Guerra briefed Hastings on the proposed new route, referencing all the relevant streets so the captain could follow along. It didn’t take long.
“Wait one,” Hastings responded after Guerra had made his pitch.
By that time, Guerra was safely ensconced inside the Humvee. He checked his watch. It was about time for the convoy to roll.
A few minutes later, Hastings came back. “Makes sense to me, and the pilots say it’s not going to affect their fuel situation. You’re cleared hot to do it, Apache One Two. Over.”
“Roger, Lakota One One. That’s what we’re gonna do. Give me an additional five mikes to brief my people, and then we’re rolling. Over.”
“Good copy. Out.”
Guerra made a few additional notes on his map, switched frequencies, and keyed his radio again. “All Apache elements, be prepared to move in five mikes. Break. I need to see the senior man from each vehicle at my position. Over.”
Five minutes later, the convoy moved out. The senior man in each vehicle would brief the the rest on the new plan as they drove.
“Lakota One One, this is Apache One Two. Over.”
“This is Lakota. Over.”
“Apache is moving. How copy? Over.”
“Good copy, Apache. We have visual on you. Over.”
The convoy was making good time. The drivers had plenty of practice at moving abandoned or damaged civilian vehicles out of the way or avoiding them altogether. The few times they had to pause rarely lasted for more than a minute before they were rolling forward again. The Chinooks hung several hundred meters off to one side. The lack of any significant reeker presence along the new route was a welcome reprieve.
When the convoy came to the interchange outside of Hershey, the reekers were there in full force, and the column had to pay attention to them as they motored down US 322. The Chinooks were slightly offset, moving over the Hershey Park area.
Hastings called on the radio. “Apache One Two, Lakota. Over.”
“This is Apache. Over.”
“Good call on the route change, One Two. There is massive reeker presence on the ground right along the planned exfil route. You look good from where we are. How is it on the ground? Over.”
“Lakota, Apache. It’s not bad. We have small groups we’re dealing with, but we’re almost out of the suburbs now. Over.”
“Good copy. Lakota, out.”
Guerra had to take the convoy off road and go cross-country a few times. The column crossed the intersection of US 117, and their turn was coming up soon. They had roughly fourteen miles to go to get to the base, by Guerra’s calculations.
The road had opened up considerably. It was empty for long stretches, with no reekers in sight. The convoy was able to accelerate up to fifty-five miles per hour for a time before it had to slow down to pass through Annville. But even then, they were still moving at a respectable speed.
“Lakota One One, Apache One Two. Over.”
“Go, Apache.”
“We just passed through Annville without issue, and the road is clear. Over.”
“Roger, good copy. War Eagle is aware of our change and is still tracking the trains via the Shadow. Over.”
“Lakota, let War Eagle know we’re about twenty mikes out. I don’t want OP Two firing us up as we roll up on them. Over.”
“Roger, will advise them. Wait. Out.”
Guerra was starting to feel the energy drain and crash that followed a massive adrenaline dump, and he knew his guys were going to be in the same boat. We’re almost home. This isn’t the time to get sloppy. “All Apache elements, this is Apache Actual. Be advised we are twenty mikes out from OP Two. Keep your eyes open. Over.”
Hastings came back over the radio. “Apache One Two, Lakota. Over.”
“Go, Lakota.”
“War Eagle is going to maintain eyes on the trains via Shadow. All BOXCAR elements will RTB with your convoy. Over.”
“Good copy, Lakota. Apache One Two, out.”
Less than twenty minutes later, the convoy passed through the gates of Observation Post Two. Guerra felt a wave of relief at being back on the base. He watched as the three remaining Chinooks headed to the ramp at Muir Army Airfield before he keyed his mike.
“All Apache elements, stand by at the staging area. Senior man each vehicle, I’ll need to see you at my vehicle. Out.”
Even though Guerra was thrilled to be back inside the Gap’s confines, what came next was the hard part. He had to get a good count on who was KIA and which vehicles and equipment had been lost. And thinking ahead, he’d have to organize the mission in his head, as he was sure the officers would have a lot of questions for him. Officers always did. After all, how many days do you go out on mission and smoke a bunch of Jehovah’s Witnesses?
He also made a mental note to have a word with Stilley about that stunt he pulled with the Radio in a Box system on the objective. The damn thing was probably still playing music, for all he knew. He wasn’t sure whether it was going to be an ass chewing or an attaboy conversation—he’d have to chew on that one for a while. There just ain’t no rest for the wicked these days.
*
As soon as the aircraft landed, Hastings headed to the TOC. En route, he called Guerra to let him know he needed to meet him there as soon as possible. He was met by Colonels Victor and Jarmusch.
“Welcome back, Captain Hastings,” Victor said.
“Thank you, sir. Sergeant Guerra will be joining us shortly, and then we can begin the debrief.”
“Guerra?” Jarmusch looked a bit perplexed. “What about Sergeant First Class Ballantine?”
“Ballantine gave me a quick info dump regarding his mission’s particulars, sir. I can speak on his behalf. I haven’t anything from Guerra yet, which is why he’s on his way over.”
Jarmusch nodded, apparently satisfied with that.
“Where are the trains now, sirs?” Hastings asked.
“Last update we received, they were passing through Myerstown,” Victor said. “That was about five minutes ago, though.”
“Any issues?”
Victor shook his head. “None that I’m aware of. All three trains are moving along unhampered. We estimate they should be at the unloading point in about two hours, give or take.”
Guerra walked into the TOC, and Hastings thought the Hispanic soldier looked as though he’d been put through the ringer. As Guerra neared the group, Hastings and the colonels welcomed him back.
“What about the trains?” Guerra asked.
“Trains are on their way. Should be here in two hours,” Hastings said.
Guerra shook his head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad that’s over.”
“You and me both. We’re gonna do a quick fifteen-minute info dump, and then you can put your guys into rest and refit.”
“Sounds good to me, sir. They’ve earned it.”
Hastings smiled. “No doubt about that. Let’s go knock this shit out now.”
They turned and walked into the conference room. Several members of the command staff were already there, setting up the required presentation and recording materials. Hastings sighed. It was going to be another long session.
*
It was nightfall before Hastings, Ballantine, and Guerra headed back to the bar
racks. They were tired, dirty, and basically plain worn out, but Hastings was happy to see things were still pretty much normal around the Gap. During their after-action report session, he had received word that the trains had been recovered and secured at the Gap’s water reclamation plant, and a team of soldiers and Guardsmen were already off-loading the containers. In the far distance, Hastings heard the sounds of machinery operating.
“Cranes,” Ballantine said, apparently noticing Hastings’s expression. “They’re transferring the first batch of containers to the lowboys.”
“That’s a lot of noise,” Hastings said. “They have enough security?”
Ballantine nodded. “Yeah, one of Victor’s boys from the One-Oh-One has an entire company up there. Plus, there are the mulchers,” Ballantine added, referring the large excavator machines that were so effective at dealing with the dead.
“Are Chan and his MPs in charge up there?”
“Another captain, sir. Guy named Vogler,” he said. “He was heading up OP Two before. Not sure if the two of you managed to touch base or not.”
“I hadn’t.”
“Seems pretty with it, given that he’s just a lowly air assault kinda guy,” Ballantine said. “I figure if he was with Victor in Philly, then they’ve probably seen some shit and know what’s headed our way.”
The plan was for the CONEXes to be off-loaded from the railcars and deposited on lowboys for their transportation to various choke points around Indiantown Gap. Over the coming days, there would be multiple ongoing operations centered on placing the containers then fortifying them so they could not only withstand mass attacks from the dead but also act as firebases from which counter-operations could be launched. On their way in, the lightfighters had seen plenty of evidence that some folks were still alive out there hiding inside heavily fortified farmhouses, and Guerra’s report about being engaged by Jehovah’s Witnesses, of all things, told them that people who would eventually need the Army’s help. And on top of that, there were still legions of the dead that had to be killed. Or re-killed, as the case might be.
Hastings grunted. “Well, it can’t be that tough to off-load the containers. Hope you guys can get some decent rest. The next week or so is going to be full of a lot of work.”
“Born for it, sir,” Guerra said.
Ballantine snorted. “Since when did you become a kiss-ass, Guerra?”
“Since the world ended.”
Hastings shook his head. “Just keep leaning forward in the foxhole.”
They arrived at the door to the barracks, and as Ballantine reached for the knob, Hastings heard a ruckus brewing inside. Ballantine glanced back at him and Guerra then yanked the door open. Kenny’s shrieking assaulted their ears as they surged inside.
There were several new people in the barracks, all civilians. One huge man with a bald head and dark mutton chop beard was being faced down by Diana. The guy was simply gigantic, maybe six foot six, bigger than even Ballantine. He wore a bemused expression as he looked down at Diana, his thick arms crossed over his barrel chest. Diana appeared as tight as a coiled spring, ready to unload on the big man.
The rest of the civilians were keeping a fair distance away, watching the proceedings with interest. Reader, Tharinger, Hartman, and Stilley surrounded the pair, obviously trying to defuse the situation. Kay Ballantine stood behind Diana, and she looked worked up, as well. Josh and Curtis were perched on one of the top bunks, eyes wide. Hastings looked over at Kenny was still squealing and was surprised to see Master Sergeant Slater restraining the boy. Slater had wrapped the kid up in a blanket and seemed to be talking to him, but his voice couldn’t be heard over the racket.
“What the hell is going on here?” Hastings shouted as he pushed past Ballantine. He pointed at Diana and the big man. “You two, knock that shit off right now!”
The big man with the mutton chops stepped back, raising his hands. “Hey, I’m good.”
“This guy’s a fucking prick!” Diana yelled, jabbing at the man.
“Hey, let’s watch the language,” Hartman said, glancing up at Josh and Curtis.
The big man said, “How the fuck was I supposed to know the retard would flip out, you crazy fucking bitch?”
Hastings didn’t like the guy’s attitude or that he had ignored the command. He also didn’t like the fact that his soldiers were just standing around and wringing their hands while a situation was blowing up right in their faces. He charged toward the big man and slammed his hands into his chest, knocking the guy back against one of the bunks.
“Hey!” The huge man pinwheeled his arms as he stumbled off balance.
The rest of the civilians released a collective gasp.
Hastings ignored them as he grabbed a fistful of the man’s denim work shirt. “What part of ‘knock that shit off right now’ did you not understand?”
The big man glared down at Hastings from his six-inch advantage. He obviously wasn’t used to being physically challenged. The shocked expression disappeared as his face clouded with anger. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he said, straightening.
That got the rest of soldiers sufficiently energized, and the man suddenly found himself surrounded by six more lightfighters.
“He’s the guy who can order us to smoke your ass, pal,” Ballantine said, getting right in the man’s face. “You will stop doing everything and stand there like a store dummy, or you’re going to get one hell of a beat down.”
“Might get one anyway,” Guerra added.
The big man raised his hands. “Okay, guys. Okay.” He looked past Ballantine, and his brow furrowed. “Jesus, boss, are you getting ready to shoot me?”
Hastings turned and saw Reader standing just behind the group, M4 in his hands, stock tucked into his armpit. Reader’s blue eyes were hard and flinty.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Reader said.
Hastings released the big man and looked around. “All right, what happened here?”
Diana pointed an accusatory finger at the big man. “This hairy fu—” She stopped and glanced up at Curtis and Josh. “This jerk ate all of Kenny’s cheese. When Kenny tried to take some back, he pushed him away and called him a stupid retard. Kenny had a meltdown.”
“And where were you?” Hastings asked.
Diana put on an offended expression. “I was in the bathroom changing my tampon, General.”
Hastings heard Curtis whisper to Josh, “What’s a tampon?”
“I think it’s a gun,” Josh whispered back.
“Oh,” Hastings said, trying not to smile. He turned back to the big man. “So you called Kenny a retard and ate his food?”
“No,” the big man said. “First, I ate his food, then I called him a retard. And I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know the kid had problems, and I didn’t know he only ate jalapeño cheese and crackers. I thought he was just being a brat when he came at me and tried to take the stuff away from me.”
“So what you’re telling us is that you’re the kind of guy who’d take candy from a baby,” Ballantine said. He looked at Hastings. “Diana’s right. This guy is an asshole.”
“Damn straight!” Diana said.
“Look, I didn’t know!” the man said.
“All right, here’s the deal.” Hastings looked around the room, making eye contact with each of the dozen or so newcomers. “Kenny’s autistic. He lost his family, and he’s hooked up with us. You guys give him a wide berth, or we’re going to have a tough time getting along. Now, who’s in charge of you people?”
All eyes swung to the rear of the barracks, where Slater sat with Kenny. The boy was winding down, and Slater had wrapped him tightly in the blanket. Kenny wasn’t struggling against him any longer, but he still made plaintive, helpless sounds. Slater continued talking to him in a low voice.
“What are you doing to that kid?” Diana snapped, stepping in that direction.
Hastings grabbed her arm. “Hey, hold up for a bit. Looks like the master sergeant migh
t have this under control.”
Diana twisted, trying to get away from him. “I don’t—”
“Diana,” Hastings said, “give it a chance.”
“It’s okay, sir,” Slater said. “Let her come over. They boy’s calming down.”
Hastings released Diana, and she walked over to where Slater sat with Kenny—but not before turning back and giving the big man with the mutton chops the stink eye. Hastings snorted at that. At just over five feet tall, she wouldn’t have much of a chance against the big guy, but she was so full of piss and vinegar that she probably didn’t even care.
Hastings turned back to the big man, who was still surrounded by the troops. “Okay, guys. Let him loose.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at Reader. “Secure that weapon, Reader.”
“Safety is on, sir,” Reader said, relaxing a bit.
The big man looked embarrassed. “Listen, I’m really sorry about this.”
“Why did you take the kid’s food?” Hastings asked.
“I didn’t know it was his food,” the man said. “I saw the boxes of chow, and I just dived in. I like jalapeño, so I thought I’d have some. I didn’t realize it was reserved for re—” The man caught himself and cleared his throat. “For… for special kids.”
Hastings walked up on him again. “You might be in severe need of an attitude adjustment. Who are you?”
“His name’s Walker, sir,” Slater offered, strolling over to them. Diana had taken over Kenny Control. “He’s as big as an ox, but don’t let that fool you. He’s not nearly as smart. Isn’t that right, Walker?”
Walker said nothing. He just looked down at the floor.
“Truth is, he’s a bully and probably always has been,” Slater continued. “He’s also a bit of a pussy. You stand up to him, he steps back. The only reason he was giving your Asian lady friend there a tough time is because she’s tiny. Ain’t that right, Walker?” Slater paused, but when Walker did nothing more than shrug, he went on. “No one really likes him, but he’s big and strong, and he can bust open a reeker’s head with a baseball bat with one shot. His only redeeming quality.”
These Dead Lands: Immolation Page 31