“I thought you said this wasn’t Blair,” Cale interrupted.
“I’m getting there,” chuckled Amanda.
“Sorry. I’ll quit interrupting,” said Cale.
“After we’d finished patching him up, we had to call his first line leader. He begged us not to, but it’s just part of the SOP, you know?”
“Yeah,” Cale answered.
“It’s like one in the morning and we call this guy. He was totally rude to me on the phone while I explained what the situation was. Twenty minutes later, in walks this tall guy with ginger hair.”
“Enter Blair,” Cale said with a smile.
“Yeah. So I tell him what all we did, and what the guy’s injuries were,” Amanda continued.
“None of which I heard, because I was too busy staring at the smoking hot nurse,” Blair said from the door.
“Hey! How long have you been there?” Amanda asked.
“Long enough,” Blair responded. “Keep going, I want to hear the end.”
Amanda was flustered, and perhaps a little embarrassed.
“I gave him my number, and here we are,” she said shortly.
“Oh, come on. Let’s hear the whole thing,” Blair smiled.
“So I lead him back to the room where his guy was,” she started.
“And I watched her ass the whole way,” Blair chuckled.
Cale laughed too.
“No, you didn’t,” Amanda objected.
“No, you’re right. Keep going with the story,” he pushed.
When she looked away, he mouthed silently to Cale that he was watching her ass the whole way, and the two of them shared a smirk.
“As we walked, we talked about how I used to be in the service and that my little brother was currently in. We just hit it off, “she smiled at Blair.
He smiled back.
“But, when we got to the room, the guy was naked, and he kept calling me his girlfriend,” Amanda finished.
“Yeah. Jones was a special kind of soldier,” Blair interjected, “I’m kind of glad he was a fuck up, though.”
“I’m not sure how or why, but I ended up giving Blair my number.”
“It’s just part of my ginger magnetism, like a Jedi mind trick,” Blair laughed.
“A year later, we were married,” Amanda said, starry-eyed, and looking at Blair, who returned the look in kind.
Cale didn’t want to interrupt the moment.
“How’d I do?” asked Amanda.
Cale climbed out of the chair and walked into the bathroom to look in the mirror. “It’s great. Thanks,” answered Cale.
“Any time,” she replied with a smile.
There was another knock at the partially open door.
“We’re all decent,” Blair joked.
Michael, the Australian civilian turned military volunteer walked in.
“Cale, this is Michael, the guy who saved your ass from those damn zombies,” introduced Blair.
Cale approached him, extending his hand as he did. Michael reached out, and the pair exchanged firm handshakes.
“Thanks a lot. I thought my goose was cooked for sure,” Cale said with a smile.
“Not a problem. Just return the favor should the situation ever arise, okay?” Michael chuckled.
“Definitely. I didn’t get you in too much trouble did I?” Cale asked.
Michael looked at Blair with a smile as he answered, “Nah. Just got yelled at, and I’ve been yelled at before.”
The group shared a laugh.
“Enjoying the new uniform?” Blair asked Cale.
“Yes. Thanks, Sergeant,” replied Cale.
“Well, shall we?” Blair asked, gesturing to the door.
Cale grabbed his patrol cap and shouldered his tan bag.
“I was going to ask. How did you get this?” Cale asked, gesturing to the bag.
“After we got you out of there, we went back for your supplies,” Michael explained.
“We’ve added your little stock pile to our own, but you’ll get to keep your personal items,” Blair added, “Hope that’s okay.”
“Not a problem,” replied Cale.
Blair led them out the door and past the two MPs posted there. Together they went down the hall and entered the stairwell, exiting into the lobby at ground level. There were armed guards in civilian clothes posted everywhere. Cale wondered if this was all for him.
“The guards are a precaution we take in case the infected get in,” Amanda informed him.
“Everyone here is armed,” Michael smiled.
“We have to be,” Blair added.
Cale followed the group outside, where a van waited for them.
“Is it safe out here?” asked Cale.
“We have a perimeter set up. It spans a few blocks in every direction,” Blair explained.
“Yeah. We just used a bunch of vans and trucks to block off the roads. Most of the buildings have been boarded up,” stated Michael.
“How many people do you have here, if you don’t mind my asking?” Cale said reluctantly.
“Counting you, we now have seven hundred and thirty three,” said Blair as he opened the door to the van. “They’re mostly civilian, but we’ve managed to train a few into what I call the Civilian Guard.”
“We’re on a duty rotation,” Michael added.
“And you’re in charge?” Cale asked Blair as they climbed into the van.
Blair took a moment before answering, “Yeah. All the brass and higher ups were killed in the initial surge. We had infected inside our perimeter before we knew what was happening. After we rallied, and the battalion commander ordered us to fall back, he put me in charge. He’d…he’d become infected,” Blair said solemnly.
He then leaned forward and said something to the driver, and the van began to roll. Cale looked out the window as they traveled toward what was for Cale, an unknown destination. An armed guard stood at every street corner, and armed civilians moved through the streets going about their day. They weren’t kidding when they said everyone was armed. It looked like they each had a firearm, as well as a club type weapon of some kind.
After a left turn at the end of the block, the van slowed and stopped in front of a park. A group of people stood in formation. They were all American, in various military uniforms.
“Sorry to spring this on you,” Blair said with a smile.
“What’s going on?” Cale asked.
“You’re getting promoted sweetie,” Amanda said, as she gave him a hug.
Cale didn’t know what to say.
“Think of all the back pay you’ll be getting for this,” Blair laughed.
Blair circled to the front of the formation. Cale dropped his tan bag and straightened his patrol cap. Michael and Amanda stayed back, while Blair took his place at the front of the gathering
“Cale! Front and center!” he shouted.
Cale quickly jogged around the group and stood directly in front of Blair. He raised his arm to salute the sergeant first class. Blair returned the gesture.
“Attention to orders,” he began. “Today we are here to welcome this soldier into the corps of noncommissioned officers. I understand that this isn’t exactly the formal way to do this, but as leaders and future leaders,” he smiled at Cale, “we’ve always adapted and overcome. It is at the request and strong urging of Staff Sergeant McGregor that this soldier be promoted ahead of his peers. In his career, Cale has shown extreme dedication to orders and has upheld the army values. In the last few months, when everything was uncertain, he tackled many problems and challenges—many that would have thwarted others. He has demonstrated the resiliency needed not only in this new world, but in the corps of Non Commissioned Officers.”
From his pocket, he produced a new patch for Cale to wear. It was the rank of sergeant. He meticulously placed it on Cale’s chest. Once perfectly placed, he gave him a firm punch to the center of his chest. Cale had expected this and braced accordingly, swaying only slightly at the blow.
He and Blair exchanged smiles and handshakes. During the handshake, Blair placed something in Cale’s hand. He looked down and saw that it was rank for his patrol cap. Cale saluted once more, and Blair returned the gesture.
“About face,” commanded Blair.
Cale executed the movement, turning to face the formation, which consisted of all E-5 and above. NCOs from every branch: Marine, navy, air force, and army were present. Every person there cheered and applauded. None of them knew Cale personally but welcomed him into the corps nonetheless. Thus, Staff Sergeant McGregor’s last order for Cale was fulfilled.
36.
Lessons in Leadership
Cale watched the five people do as he’d ordered. Each of them checked their weapon’s function and ammunition. Three men and two women looked over their personal weapons. Cale hadn’t learned their names yet, hadn’t really been given time to, after Blair pushed this group on him. He felt Cale was ready for a leadership role, but Cale had reservations. So far he’d only been able to ensure survival for himself; now Blair expected him to duplicate that for an entire group.
Given Cale’s skill set, and obvious knack for survival, Blair thought it made him a perfect candidate for scouting ahead for potential supplies, as well as forward reconnaissance posts. Cale couldn’t argue that point, but he was still uneasy in a leadership role. Four of his team members were civilian. Two of them, a man and a woman, were engaged. The fifth member was a soldier like Cale, a private first class with no nametape. His MOS was 68W. Health care specialist was the proper and official term, but essentially he was a combat medic. He carried a 9mm pistol and a sixteen-inch knife. Two of the civilians carried shotguns, and the other two had M16A2s. All of them additionally carried a club of one kind or another.
Cale looked over his newly issued M4. It had been brand new, fresh out of the wrapper, which made zeroing the weapon to Cale specifically a piece of cake. Zach’s knife was still Cale’s weapon of choice when it came to getting personal with the undead.
“Firearms are a last resort,” he reemphasized. “Try to stay out of sight. Don’t draw attention to yourselves. I want you,” Cale pointed at the bald man with a shotgun, “at the front, and you,” he pointed to a man with auburn hair, fair skin, and the other shotgun, “in the rear. If shit hits the fan, I’ll need one of you to clear a path for us.”
The two men nodded. One of the women looped her arm in with the rear gunner.
“I want you next to me,” he said to the other soldier. “That way, if anyone gets hurt, you’re in the middle,” he explained.
“Yes, Sergeant,” the PFC replied.
Cale hesitated a moment. He wasn’t used to his new rank yet and lost his train of thought.
“Uh…right,” he said awkwardly. “You two,” he said to the women, “I want you with him,” pointing the blonde toward the front gunner, “and you, with him,” directing the black girl to her fiancé.
The two of them shared a relieved look. Cale didn’t like being in charge of a romantically involved couple, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Blair assured him that each of these people was trained to remain calm under pressure. He just hoped he was right. Cale knew the importance of action when the time came.
“Alrigh…” Cale choked.
He’d meant to sound commanding, but ended up sounding like an idiot.
They’d been dropped off just inside what they called the Red Zone, an area that hadn’t been either explored or cleared of infected. It wasn’t a training exercise; but a real mission, and Cale was in charge.
“Let’s go,” he said, after regaining his composure.
His second attempt sounded more confident. It didn’t exactly inspire his team, but was sufficient to motivate them to move. The transport team had fallen back to the Green Zone. Cale and his team took refuge in an antique shop of some kind. So far there were no infected in sight, which was a good sign, but this didn’t mean that they weren’t around. Cale led them to the back of the store.
“Form up,” he said to them quietly.
Each of them lined up in front of the alley entrance in the order he’d designated.
“Stay quiet and stay close,” Cale ordered.
Each of them had their melee weapons ready. Cale counted down on his hand for the front man to open the door. Once the countdown was over, the man opened it quickly but quietly. Other than lots of discarded trash, the alley was vacant. Cale utilized nonverbal communication, and spoke with hand and arm signals. He directed the front man toward the end of the alley where it opened to the street. Cale had been instructed to find grocery or convenience stores, and to be on the lookout for potential tactical points, areas that could be fortified and easily maintained. When Cale asked Blair what was meant by this, Blair simply told him that he’d know it if he saw it.
His team was now out on the street and deep inside the Red Zone. He directed the front man to take cover behind an overturned police car. One by one they followed, cautiously scanning the street for the undead.
The group performed exactly as they’d been trained, bounding on their way between cover. Moving slowly down the boulevard, Cale looked at his point man. With a silent gesture, he informed his team leader that he could see something. He pointed toward the bodies that littered the street. None of them were moving, but he couldn’t be sure that they weren’t infected.
Cale ordered everyone to hold his or her position, as he made his way up to the man with the shotgun and crouched behind a bus stop. The thought of doubling back came to his mind as he surveyed the street. He weighed the option, but he didn’t want the decision to make him look weak as a leader. He needed to be confident in his next order. Quickly he counted the bodies. There were seven of them in view. Seven infected could be dealt with.
“How many do you see?” whispered Cale.
“Looks like seven of ‘em,” the man answered in an Irish accent.
“Good,” he replied, “That’s what I count too.”
Cale waved his arms, gaining the attention of the rest of his team. He then gave the signal to rally on his position. All of them quietly approached his position behind the bench.
“Okay,” he whispered, “we’re going to continue this way. But stay close. Roger?”
He met the eyes of each team member to ensure they understood.
Cale turned back to the bald Irishman. “I want you to lead us straight to those bodies. We’re going to make sure they’re dead, and that they stay that way. Once there, everyone take a body to cover.”
The Irishman nodded, readied a heavy metal pipe, and moved out. The blonde woman behind him followed with her baseball bat. Cale pulled out the British combat knife and moved toward his target. The first few bodies had gunshot wounds to their heads. After they reached the fifth body, they discovered an additional two bodies that had been hidden under a pile of debris. Cale tapped the woman in front of him and motioned for her and the combat medic to check out the two previously unseen bodies. They too, had gunshot wounds to the body and face. Cale and the Irishman moved up to the next set of bodies, located outside a storefront, and again made the same discovery. Someone had already dealt with the infected.
Cale looked back at his team, and realized they’d become spread out. He’d begun to give the signal to rally when someone shot their weapon. The round whizzed past his ear, startling him. His first instinct was to shout, but as he looked at his team they were all scrambling for cover. Another shot burst through the air and struck the ground next to him.
“Fuck!” he shouted.
He turned to take cover and discovered the Irishman had been shot in the gut and was lying in the street writhing in pain. More shots whizzed past him. Quickly, he grabbed the man and pulled him behind a parked vehicle.
“Return fire!” he ordered his team.
He pushed the button on his radio and began transmitting, “Overlord! Overlord! This is Elite, over!”
Everyone began firing in random directions.
“This
is Overlord. Send it, Elite,” the transmitter answered.
“Overlord, we’ve received small arms fire approximately one mile east of our insertion point, over!” informed Cale.
As he waited for a response, Cale scanned the area for the shooter. He saw muzzle flashes in a second story window, and then the rounds struck the ground near his team.
“Second story! Fifth window from the right” he yelled to the team.
Everyone oriented their fire to the point he described.
“Medic! Get over here!” screamed Cale.
The combat medic used the cover fire to advance to Cale and the Irishman.
“Cale, it’s Blair,” the sergeant first class’ voice came over the radio.
“Blair! We’re receiving small arms fire from a second story window about one mile east of insertion. There is at least one combatant armed with a semi-automatic rifle! I have one man down!” Cale relayed the situation.
“Roger,” Blair said, “I have QRF headed your way now.”
“Can I get an ETA?” Cale asked.
The combat medic went to work on the Irishman, exposing the wound to his abdomen. He then began pulling supplies from his bag.
“It’ll be about fifteen mikes,” Blair answered.
“Roger,” replied Cale as he looked at the window.
More gunfire erupted. Cale observed more muzzle flashes from his position behind the vehicle. Lead rained down around him. There were obviously more of them.
“Keep firing!” commanded Cale.
He grabbed the radio and began his situation update, “Blair, I have multiple combatants! I repeat multiple combatants!”
Cale could see the silhouette of one of the shooters. He raised his rifle and took aim, lining up his target first in the rear, and then the front sights. He squeezed off a round, and the man stumbled. Cale hadn’t lost his sight picture and sent off another round. His target slumped forward and fell out the window, striking the pavement. It was just a kid, maybe fourteen years old. Cale pushed it from his mind and lined up a new target, ignoring the rounds that pinged off the car in front of him. He lined up another target, thought about his breathing, and was surprised at how steady it was.
Z Plan (Book 2): Red Tides Page 23