These Dead Lands: Immolation

by Stephen Knight

  Slater drifted over. “You hear the news, sir?”

  “What is it now?” Hastings asked.

  Slater glanced back at Kenny for a moment. Hastings thought it was an odd set of circumstances, the weird SF dude watching over an autistic kid who couldn’t even go to the bathroom by himself. “Nothing bad, sir,” Slater said. “Rawhide established contact. CG USASOC is in command, and I understand they’re giving Victor direction for next steps.” Slater pronounced the acronym for US Army Special Operations Command as “you-sa-sock.”

  “Well, that is good, I guess. Looks like you were right about Bragg, after all.”

  “Yes, sir. Anyway, I don’t have all the details, but more information’s coming out regarding the overall picture. Turns out there’s a fortified city out west, either Denver or Salt Lake or something like that. And Bragg’s been able to eradicate most of the reekers in their immediate vicinity, but I’m going to guess that’s just a temporary condition.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  Kenny let out several “Koo-shas,” and both men looked over at him. For an instant, Kenny returned each of their glances. Then he smiled and went back to rifling through the magazine while babbling to himself.

  “That’s all I know, sir,” Slater said. “I was thinking about taking a walk over to the TOC when the lady comes back.”

  “Where is she?”

  “D-FAC, getting some chow. She needed a break, so I said I’d watch the youngster, here.” Slater motioned toward Kenny as the little boy pirouetted, holding the magazine over his head.

  “You like kids, Slater?”

  Slater gave him an enigmatic look. “I’m trying to like everyone who isn’t a zombie, sir.”

  “You know anything about autism?”

  “Not much. Had a cousin whose kid was even worse off than little Kenny here, but that’s about it. Anything I know I picked it up from them, but it was never a field of primary study or anything.” Slater looked back at Kenny. “He’s stimming pretty hard on that magazine. It’s going to take some doing to get it away from him, and then he’ll probably start hollering. I advised the lady to try wrapping him up in a blanket or a towel and pull it tight, but I don’t know if that’s just a short-term tactic or a longer term one for getting him to spool down.”

  Hastings grunted. “Kind of surprising, Slater—you, of all people, looking after the kid.”

  Slater shrugged. “It beats fighting the dead, sir. Besides, he needs someone, and your lady friend is getting spread kind of thin.”

  “She’s not—” Hastings stopped and shook his head. He didn’t know why people were drawing a connection between him and Diana, but it wasn’t important. There were bigger issues to worry about. “Anyway, thanks for helping out, especially since you probably just got in yourself. What’s the situation on the barricades up north, on Eighty-One?”

  “Functionally complete, sir. Just needs to be hardened, but there are two companies up there doing what they need to do. Some heavy equipment was brought in to establish a trench line, so other than the reekers that get into the wood line, we should be good to go.” Slater looked at Hastings for a moment. “When are you heading for the TOC, sir?”

  Hastings sighed. “Well, I was going to hit the latrine, take a shower, and get some chow first. But yeah, I do need to get over there. I want to find out more about Rawhide’s situation and figure out what’s going to happen with regards to a retrograde destination.”

  “Loop me in on that, sir. I’d like to hear it all for myself, if you don’t mind,” Slater said.

  “You got it, Slater. You want me to take over Kenny Control while you get squared away?”

  Slater shook his head. “No, sir. You go ahead. I’ll hand him off to the lady when she gets back.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  Hastings nodded his thanks. He pulled out a fresh uniform and headed for the showers.

  *

  “Hastings, you look like hell,” Victor said when Hastings and Slater walked into the tactical operations center.

  Things were mostly quiet, but several soldiers, all intel guys, were clustered around the Shadow RVT. The feed wasn’t being transmitted to one of the center’s big screens, so Hastings couldn’t see what was going on.

  “So I’m told, sir. What’s happening over there?” he asked, indicating the RVT.

  “Another reeker formation that might be headed our way,” Victor said tiredly. “From the south, this time. Looks like the dead are pushing out of the Philly area and working their way toward us.”

  “How many?”

  “That’s what they’re trying to determine. Smaller than the horde coming in from the east, but by what order of magnitude, we’re not certain.” Victor sat at his desk, a coffee mug with the Gap’s logo next to his folded hands. “So have you men heard the news? Bragg is up and operational.”

  “We heard, sir,” Slater said. “That’s why we’re here.”

  Victor grunted. “Have any other surprises for us, Sergeant Slater? Like maybe the location of a B-52 squadron we could use to take out the reekers?”

  “Sorry, sir. That’s a little outside of my reach.”

  Victor grunted again. “It’s out of Bragg’s, too. We asked, but there’s nothing at Pope that can reach us, and Seymour Air Base was overrun. There’s a movement underway to take that facility back, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon. Looks like the Gap is on its own.” Victor cut his eyes over to Hastings. “So what’s on your mind, Captain?”

  “A few things, sir. You have the time for a chat right now?”

  Victor nodded. “Sure. I’m just waiting for the final word on the new wave of bad news heading our way. What do you need?”

  “Defenses are going up, but I guess you already have the status reports on those, sir. A couple of things have come up. One of my men made contact with an Amish family outside the wire, and he’s requested I find out if we can spare some armaments for them.”

  “Tell them to come inside. If they don’t, they’re not going to last for long,” Victor said.

  “They’ve refused, sir. But I think that when things swing from bad to worse, they’ll change their mind. We’d like to arm them well enough to make a break for one of the barricades.”

  “Sounds like wasted effort just waiting to happen, Hastings.”

  Hastings shrugged. “That might be the case, sir. But they’re still people, so we should probably try to help them out.”

  “I get it, Hastings. I’ll pass that request on to Jarmusch. What else?”

  “I was wondering if you’re having any luck with retrograde plans, in the event shit hits the fan.”

  Victor nodded. “We have. Bragg tells us that most of the nation is in a state of advanced disarray. The only place that’s stable enough to fall back to is Colorado Springs. The entire city is being turned into a fortress.”

  “Colorado Springs? There’s nothing closer?”

  Victor shook his head. “Nothing that anyone is aware of. All the major population centers between us and Colorado Springs are on the ropes. Chicago’s going down for the count in a major way. Ohio’s off the grid. There are some communities in Texas, like Corpus Christi, that seem to still be functioning, but their longevity is in question. Bragg is gearing up for combat operations against the dead, but it’s going to take a long while for that to happen. Colorado Springs has pretty much the entirety of Fort Carson still available, as that post was held in reserve, along with the entire Fourth Infantry. Aside from Bragg, it represents the biggest concentration of US Army forces still on the grid.”

  “Okay. So the plan is to conduct a movement to Colorado, sir?”

  “Not entirely.” Victor leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “We’re being tasked to deliver Senator Cornell to Bragg. As president pro tempore of the Senate, he’s directly in line to assess to the presidency. And since the whereabouts of the president, VP, and Speaker of the House
are currently unknown, it’s been decided that Cornell is to be preserved for continuity of government. So the answer to your question, Captain, is this: if we have to bug out, the civilians will be taken to Fort Carson by Colonel Jarmusch and his command. The rest of us will be going to Fort Bragg to provide protection for Senator Cornell and to rejoin the active duty forces down there.”

  Hastings tried to keep the shock off his face. “What’s the plan of movement, sir?”

  “That’s not finalized, yet. We still have to see if we’re going to survive the fight. The Colorado elements will likely set out by train, and the Bragg element will set out by road vehicles. We can’t use the Chinooks, not enough range, and Bragg isn’t in a position to push supplies out to us. There’s a chance we could find fuel at abandoned airports along the way, but that’s more a hope than a possibility. So a road movement to Bragg, as risky as it might sound, is probably our only option.”

  “Bragg has nothing they can send our way? Not even some C-12s?” Slater asked. C-12 Hurons were twin turboprop airplanes used for executive transport by the Army and other services. Based off the venerable Beechcraft King Air platform, the airplane had a range of a hair over two thousand miles.

  “None available,” Victor said. “There used to be a few positioned here, but they were moved farther west, to Chicago. I don’t know why, but the president had senior staff there, and I suspect they were moved to support them. Bragg tells me they have none onsite.”

  Hastings turned to Slater. “Didn’t you say there was a railhead down at Bragg?”

  “Well, there’s a rail line that runs to Fayetteville,” Slater said.

  “The switching system is down, and we have heavy freight trains, not light rail,” Victor said. “That line is for light rail only. We’ve been looking into using another train to get down to Bragg. We can get into North Carolina, but we can’t be certain we’d be able to make it to Bragg, or even Fort AP Hill. So we’ll convoy down using MRAPs, five-tons, and HEMT-Ts with some gun trucks for additional security. We still have some Strykers available, so they’ll come along for the ride. It’s going to be a hell of a trip, but it’s our best option right now.”

  Hastings’s head was spinning. “Sir, how do you imagine the forces will be split?”

  “Jarmusch will lead an element of two battalions of Guard out west, along with all the civilians and dependents. Active duty personnel will head south.” Victor glanced toward the cluster of officers surrounding the Shadow remote video terminal. “Well, unless things change.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d like to chop my guys over to Jarmusch. They have a lot of experience dealing with the dead.”

  Victor looked at Hastings oddly. “What difference does that make, Captain? By the time this goes down, everyone is going to have made contact with the reekers.”

  “We have a special needs child with us, sir. It’s better to send him off with people he knows. Besides which, Sergeant Ballantine’s family is also along for the ride, and I really think we’re going to have a tough time separating him from them.”

  Victor leaned forward. “You’re telling me that the disposition of a sergeant first class needs to be factored into our plans, Hastings? I don’t think so. He’s a member of the United States Army. He’ll do as he’s told.”

  “Sir, Ballantine would be better suited to assisting the Guard defend the train,” Slater said. “He’s a combat vet, and he has tons of real world experience. And let’s face it—if something goes wrong, if the train or rail system is disabled, those people are going to need all the help they can get. Hastings doesn’t even have a squad-sized element under his direct command, so chopping them over to the Guard isn’t going to make a fundamental difference with regards to the road movement to Bragg.”

  “And why do you say that, Slater?” Victor asked.

  “Because you’ll have me, of course,” Slater said with a grin.

  Victor snorted. “And you think a single Green Beret is a suitable replacement for, what, seven lightfighters?”

  Slater seemed hurt. “Well, no, sir. A Green Beret is a suitable replacement for a battalion of lightfighters.”

  Victor smiled thinly.

  “It’ll be six lightfighters, sir,” Hastings said.

  Victor blinked. “What do you mean, Captain?”

  “I’ll be on the road to Bragg, sir. As important as supporting the civilians and Guard sounds, I think the COG initiative is where I’m needed.”

  “Just you? You’d step away from your men, just like that?”

  “They can take care of themselves whether I’m with them or not, sir.”

  Victor rubbed his eyes then reached for his coffee mug. He tilted it toward him and made a face. He pushed the empty mug away. “I guess your unit might be better off with the civilians. I’m sure Colonel Jarmusch will be happy to have them.”

  Hastings nodded. “I’ll pass that on, sir.”

  “And you’re coming with us to Bragg?”

  “Yes, sir.” Hastings jerked a thumb toward Slater. “Someone has to provide adult oversight of the special operator.”

  “Huh,” Slater muttered.

  “All right, Hastings, I’ll let you make that call. Technically, your guys aren’t under my control anyway.” Victor got to his feet and picked up his mug. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day. You should get some sleep. But swing by the railhead and find Colonel Jarmusch. He’s overseeing the train preparations, so you’ll want to find him and make your request to arm the Amish. That sounds kind of funny when you say it out loud.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  *

  Jarmusch had no problem breaking open the arms room and provisioning some weapons for the Amish, and he had one of his soldiers bring five M4s with ten magazines of ammunition each. Hastings and Slater lugged the armaments back to the barracks building, where Hastings presented them to Staff Sergeant Guerra. He instructed Guerra to make another push for the clannish people to come inside the wire when he took the weapons. No one could guarantee their safety if they relocated to the Gap, but their deaths were pretty much a sure bet if they remained in their compound. Guerra said he would give it a shot.

  “Thanks for this, sir,” Guerra said, indicating the rifles.

  “No sweat.” Hastings looked around the barracks. It was after 2300 hours, and the kids were all asleep, including Kenny. So were Reader and Stilley, and Everson snored away under his blanket a few rows away. Diana was lying on her bunk, fully clothed, hands folded across her flat stomach. She regarded Hastings with hooded eyes, and something about her inspection of him made him uncomfortable. Hastings looked around. Everyone was accounted for… except Carl and Kay Ballantine.

  “Where’s Ballantine?” he asked Guerra.

  “Oh…uh…” Guerra cleared his throat. “Um, he’s probably taking a shower.” His face reddened. “With Mrs. Ballantine.”

  It took Hastings a second to register what that meant. “Oh. Well.”

  “Hooah, Big Sarge,” Slater said with a smile. “Getting himself some one-on-one action before the fight. Guess he’s not such a lunkhead after all.”

  Guerra grinned. “Yeah, right?”

  Hastings checked his watch. “Okay guys. Let’s get together at zero five thirty for a meeting. We have some items to discuss before we get back to setting up the defenses and prepping for the reekers. I want all the troops up and ready, and we’ll need Everson, as well. You too, Slater.”

  “I was hoping to sleep in tomorrow, sir,” Slater said.

  Guerra smirked. “He was planning on spending a long two minutes with his happy sock, so he’ll need his rest.”

  Slater looked indignant. “Son, I need the plural. As in socks, in case you don’t know what plural means.”

  “Just stay away from mine, Sergeant,” Guerra warned.

  “Zero five thirty, guys,” Hastings repeated. “And you might want to get up a bit earlier so you can wash your socks.”

  With that, Hastings
headed for his own bunk. He sat down heavily on the thin mattress. Half the lights had been shut off, leaving the rear part of the barracks in darkness. He put his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face. He felt beard stubble and decided he’d shave before he went to bed. For the moment, the latrine was off limits. He’d have to wait until the Ballantines came up for air. He pulled his hands away from his face and saw Diana still stretched out on her bunk and looking at him.

  Hastings spread his hands. “Something I can do for you?”

  “Loaded question,” she replied.

  “Sorry?”

  She turned on her side so that she faced him. Her T-shirt pulled tight against her chest, and Hastings could plainly see the outlines of her nipples beneath the thin fabric.

  Diana rested her head on one of her hands and favored him with an arch smile. “See anythings you like, Phil?”

  Hastings looked away. His embarrassment was a dull sensation, almost nullified by the exhaustion he felt. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I like it.”

  Hastings frowned. “You like what?”

  “You. Looking at me.”

  And there it was, an outright invitation, if he had ever heard one. Hastings didn’t know whether to laugh, get angry, or feel intrigued. The world was coming to a tumultuous halt, an army of carnivorous corpses was descending on the Gap, and the biggest firefight Hastings had participated in was on the agenda for the following day. And in the middle of all that, Diana Li wanted to get laid.

  “Thought you were on your cycle,” he muttered.

  “Ended today. And I’m really sorry about what you’ve gone through and all, but it does look like you might have some time. Plus, you’re the only guy I like around this place.”

  Slater trudged past, heading toward his bunk. If he’d heard any part of their conversation, he didn’t show it. He glanced at Kenny but didn’t break stride.

  Diana rolled into a sitting position and leaned toward Hastings until their faces were less than a foot apart. Hastings didn’t move. He was surprised at the conflict in his mind, a weird mixture of shame and sudden lust that made him feel ridiculous.

  Her eyes gleamed in the semidarkness as her dark gaze locked onto his. “Besides, you’ve already seen me naked. I know you liked it,” she said.