ROTD (Book 3): Rage of the Dead

by Dyson, Jeremy

  No matter how awful a situation may be, if you endure it long enough, it will eventually seem routine.

  The commissary is still fully stocked with everything imaginable. They even have a generator running to power the lights and the refrigerators and freezers. We grab a case of water, a few bags of chips and some bread and meats for sandwiches. Instead of a cashier at the register, we just find a pair of guards in civvies holding assault rifles.

  “Somebody here to ring us up?” I ask them.

  “No need to pay,” the guard tells me. “Money won’t be good for shit soon anyway.”

  “We’re just here to make sure no one gets too greedy,” the other guard says.

  We carry our dinner back to the inn and eat. Afterwards, we spend the night taking shifts on watch in the hallway. For the most part, Holloman Air Force Base remains quiet and we are left alone. I eat my sandwich, pop one of the antibiotics I got from the medical facility, and grab a few hours of rack time until it’s our turn to keep watch in the hallway.

  “You think these guys are right?” I ask Sarge. “Is this really going to be the end of America?”

  “Probably,” he says. “Hell, I don’t know anymore. I don’t care either. If we weren’t doing this, I don’t know what else I would do.”

  “We’d get the fuck out of here,” I say. “Go find Melissa.”

  “You know, the only thing I’m afraid of right now is what I might find if I go home,” Sarge admits. “That’s the real reason, I’m still here fighting, man.”

  “Don’t think that way, Sarge,” I say.

  “I mean it,” he says. “I look around and see everything, and I’m just like, there’s no way, right? I should just accept that they are all gone.”

  Sarge rubs his index finger across his eyebrows and fights back the emotions that are about to overwhelm him. I want to say something to make him feel better, but I can only think of some meaningless nonsense that won’t change a damn thing. Deep down, I know he is probably right. His family is most likely gone.

  “Just hang in there, Pedro,” I say. “If they are still alive, the best way we can help them, is by doing our jobs. Give Claire and this doctor a chance to stop this thing.”

  Sarge nods, but I can tell he is just agreeing for my benefit, so I stop trying to say things to make him feel better.

  “You’re right,” he says.

  “I’m always right,” I remind him.

  “No,” Sarge says. “You’re definitely not always right.”

  “Come on,” I moan. “One time, maybe, I was wrong.”

  Sarge cracks a smile.

  “Thanks, Chase,” he says. “You’re a real friend.”

  “Don’t get all goddamn mushy on me now,” I warn him.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Sarge laughs. “Fucking asshole.”

  It makes me feel better just to see him smile and laugh again. After the past couple days of tense situations, it’s good to see we can still almost have a normal conversation.

  “Hey,” he says. “How’s the hand doing?”

  I hold it up in front of me and look at it as I turn it from side to side.

  “I don’t think they’re gonna grow back,” I say.

  Sarge grins and rubs at his eye with his hand.

  “Sorry,” he says. “That should have never happened. Fucking Pittman.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I wave my bandaged hand dismissively and lower it again.

  “Does it still hurt?” he asks.

  “Like a motherfucker,” I tell him. “But I’m getting used to it.

  Seventeen

  When morning comes, Logan makes contact with the team in Chicago. He updates them on the situation at the base and urges them to hurry the hell up.

  “I’m serious, Jess. We can’t wait around here much longer. These guys are fucking nuts,” he says as he hangs up the phone.

  He paces up and down the hallway.

  “How much longer are we going to be waiting around here?” the lieutenant asks Logan.

  “I’d say it’s about a six hour flight,” Logan says as he flexes the muscles in his hand by opening and closing it. “They will probably need to stop and refuel, but they should be here by sundown.”

  “We’ll be ready to go by then,” Will says.

  “We may have another problem,” Logan tells the lieutenant. “Apparently the pilot in Chicago is refusing to fly the helicopter.”

  “He what?” Will says.

  “He won’t fly,” Logan repeats.

  “Jesus,” Will sighs.

  “The rest of the crew is willing to make the flight, at least for now,” Logan explains. “They’re not as experienced. Hopefully they should be able to manage without him, though. But you’ve seen first hand how these things go. You just need one asshole that gets out of line and it’s like a cancer. Pretty soon it spreads to the rest of the team.”

  “Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen,” Will says. “Keep me updated. I want to know the minute they are in the air.”

  Logan seems to relax a bit and nods as he listens to Will. He might have thought he was in charge yesterday, but our platoon commander has a way of easily asserting his authority due to his superior ability to handle any situation that comes his way.

  “Gunny,” Will says. “Take Lowe and Collins and head down to the motor pool to secure some transport for us.”

  “Yes, sir,” says Gunny.

  “And Gunny,” Will says as Gunny heads for the door.

  The big man turns around and waits for his orders.

  “Try to keep a low profile out there,” Will says.

  “They’re all wearing civvies, sir,” Gunny says. “We sort of stick out around here.”

  “Then we will, too,” says Will. “Head over to the BX and see if you can grab some clothes first. I want to fly under the radar here as much as possible until we are ready to hit the road.”

  “Licken Chicken, sir,” Gunny says to let him know he heard him loud and clear and then he makes his way down the hall with Lowe and Collins trailing behind him.

  “Pedro,” Will says. “If you’re good here, I’m going to go hit up the rain locker.”

  “We’re good, sir,” Sarge says.

  “Come get me if there is any trouble,” Will says.

  “Copy,” Sarge says.

  The platoon commander heads back into the room down the hall and leaves us to guard the scientist. Mac retrieves his notebook from his pack and opens to a blank page and starts scrawling on it. Gibby takes out his phone and plugs his headphones in his ears.

  “Motherfucker,” he curses and yanks the cords to pull them out again.

  “It broke?” Sarge asks.

  “Nah,” he says as he shoves it back in his pocket. “Battery is dead.”

  “Guess that makes this the day the music died,” says Mac. “You know that song, right?”

  “Bye, bye—” he sings.

  “Shut up, Mac,” says Sarge. “We know it.”

  “Come on,” says Mac. “Poor Gibby just lost the only thing he cares about in this world. It’s the least we can do for the guy. Besides, it’s a classic. It’d be un-American not to sing it.”

  “No,” Gibby says. “It’s better if you don’t.”

  “I agree with Gibby on this one,” I add.

  “You’re like a bunch of fucking communists,” Mac says. “Come on. Sarge?”

  Sarge laughs and shakes his head.

  “Comrade Rodriguez, please don’t tell me you’re a sympathizer,” he continues. Mac tosses down his notebook and pen and raises his hands up toward the sky. “What is the world coming to?”

  “Don’t you got something you need to be writing, Mac?” I say.

  “Fuck it,” says Mac. “I’m gonna sing it anyway.”

  He starts humming the classic song again. It always amazes me how he seems to have the words to every song ever written memorized but forgets everything else. By the chorus, I can’t resist. I start singing it too
. Sarge joins in, too, and then Gibby gives in as well.

  “What the hell is wrong with all of you?” Claire says.

  We stop singing and turn around to find her standing in the doorway. Her eyes are hardly open and her red hair is a tangled mess.

  “Sorry,” Sarge says. “We, uhh—”

  “We’re just boosting morale,” Mac says.

  “By singing a song about a bunch of people dying in a plane crash at seven in the morning?” Claire sighs.

  “That’s not what it’s about,” says Mac. He looks at me. “Is it?”

  I shrug. I thought it was about pie and pickups.

  “I’m going back to bed,” Claire groans before she slams the door.

  “I’m sure you’re wrong about that song,” Mac yells after her.

  “Let her sleep, Mac,” Sarge says.

  “If I could still Google shit, I’d totally prove her wrong,” Mac mumbles.

  “How many Rip It’s have you had this morning?” Sarge asks.

  “Only four,” Mac says.

  “Jesus,” Gibby says and he leans back against the wall. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

  As stupid as it might seem, the whole moronic exchange makes me feel better about our situation. If we can still act like we used to, then there is still hope that things can go back to normal someday. Or at the very least, we can still pretend to believe that it might be possible.

  Mac may seem to be ridiculous at times, but he does what he does to try and hold on to what it means to be human. It’s good to have someone like that on the team. Sometimes distractions are the only way to stay sane when it feels like the whole world is going to hell.

  When we hear the stairwell door at the end of the hall, we expect to see Gunny and the guys returning but instead it is Private Jenson and his squad of steroid infused gorillas. They look slightly agitated as they head straight for us.

  “Where’s the lieutenant?” Jenson demands.

  Any good feeling we had quickly evaporates into the thin desert air.

  “He’s in the shower,” Sarge says. “Everything okay?”

  “No, asshole,” Jenson snaps. “There are fucking dead people walking around. Everything is far from fucking okay.”

  “Easy, man,” Sarge says. He reaches out a hand to try and calm the kid down.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Jenson shoves Sarge away. “Get your fucking filthy beaner hands off me.”

  My finger moves from the guard and rests gently on the trigger of my rifle.

  “What do you need?” Sarge asks the man.

  Jenson takes a deep breath and throws his hands up.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to say that. It’s been a fucked up morning.”

  “It’s fine,” Sarge says. “What’s the problem?”

  “When the lieutenant gets out can you tell him I’d like a word with him? It’s urgent.”

  “Sure,” Sarge says. “I’ll let him know.”

  “Thanks,” says Jenson. “I’ll be in the Ops Center.”

  He turns to leave and waves at his guys to come along with him.

  “What the fuck is that about?” I ask Sarge.

  He walks down the hall to the lieutenant’s room.

  “I don’t know,” Sarge says as he knocks on the door. “But it can’t be anything good.”

  A minute later, Will opens the door a crack and peers into the hall. He has a towel around his waist and he brushes the damp curls off his forehead.

  “What’s up?” the lieutenant says.

  “We got a problem,” Sarge informs him. “Jenson was just up here. Wants you to go see him in operations. Said it’s urgent.”

  “Gunny get back yet?” he asks.

  Sarge shakes his head.

  “All right,” Will says. “Give me a couple minutes.”

  He closes the door again, but returns to the hallway a few minutes later in his undershirt and pants. Will crouches down and yanks the laces of his boots tight and ties them.

  “Mac and Gibby. You guys stay posted up out here,” he tells us. He looks at Sarge and me as he stands up again. “You two are with me. Let’s go.”

  As we head for the elevator, Logan opens his door again.

  “What’s going on?” he asks Gibby as he buttons his shirt. “Where are they going?”

  “Situation with Jenson,” Gibby intercepts him as he tries to follow us. “The lieutenant has it under control.”

  “It’s okay, Gibby” Will says. “I would appreciate having the agent come along with us on this one.”

  Gibby steps aside and Logan heads down the hall to catch up with us, rolling up his sleeves as he walks.

  “What does that stupid Army fuck want now?” Logan grumbles.

  “I guess we’ll find out,” says Will as we head for the stairs. “Everyone put on your nice faces.”

  He pushes the door open and we take the stairs down to the bottom floor. We step outside in the morning light with the temperatures already climbing toward a hundred degrees.

  We walk several blocks across the base to get to the operations center. There is increased activity near the center of the base as fifty cals, mortars and even a pair of tanks are being positioned around a long three story building on First Avenue.

  “Looks like they’re getting ready for something,” Gibby says.

  “Where can I find Jensen?” Will asks a guy hauling a sandbag over his shoulder.

  The guy drops the sandbag onto a pile surrounding a machine gun and points us toward the main entrance.

  “Go inside,” he says. “Through the doors on the left.”

  We walk up the steps to the building and through the main doors. The lieutenant leads us to an office along the left side where Jenson and his team surround a set of monitors.

  “No,” Jenson tells a guy on his left. “It’s not feasible. We don’t have the resources for that.”

  “Jenson,” Will says to get his attention.

  The grunt turns around and seems glad to see us for once.

  “Thanks for coming, Lieutenant,” he says.

  “Just call me Will,” the lieutenant tells him. “I think we’ve established that formalities have gone out the window.”

  “Will,” he says. “Sounds good.”

  “So, what’s the problem?” Will asks.

  Jensen directs his attention toward a monitor with an aerial image on the screen.

  “We got drones up in the air,” Jenson says as he gestures to a screen. “Look over here.”

  The screen shows a sizable force of the dead slowly making their way down a road.

  “Where is this?” Will asks.

  “Just outside El Paso,” says Jenson. “Pan out.”

  The man operating the terminal adjusts the drone camera. Then we can see that the line of the dead extends for miles, with more and more following the horde onto the highways all the way down to Juarez.

  “Holy shit,” says Will. “Where are they going?”

  “Here,” says Jenson. “That highway leads straight to Holloman.”

  “How long do we have?” Will asks.

  “A day,” says Jenson. “Maybe a day and a half. Unless I get a team down here to Orogrande to divert them.”

  “Good plan,” Will says. “Risky, but it should work. You sure your team is up for that?”

  “I’m not going,” Jenson says. “You fellas are.”

  Eighteen

  “We’re not seriously considering doing this, sir, are we?” says Sarge.

  We push through the front doors of the operations center and move down the steps toward the street.

  “Hell no,” the lieutenant says. “I just agreed to get him off my back. As soon as the helicopter from Chicago gets here we’re Oscar Mike.”

  “Let’s just hope they don’t get held up along the way,” I say.

  “If they do hit any snags, then we are going to have to do whatever we can to help keep this base secure,” the lieutenant says.

  “Ev
en if that means putting our asses on the line to divert the dead?” says Sarge. “I’m not okay with that.”

  “It won’t come to that,” says Will. “At least, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “We should just tell them to fuck off,” I suggest.

  “I’d like nothing more than to tell them that, Corporal,” says Will. “But then what happens to me, to all of you, to Claire? These guys have already proven that they don’t give a fuck about our orders, and they do not operate with any respect for authority.”

  I know Will is right. If we aren’t somehow useful to these guys, they won’t allow us to remain on the base. It’s that simple.

  “Logan,” the lieutenant says. “Get on the phone and find out where that helicopter is at right now.”

  The agent pulls out the satellite phone from his bag and powers it on.

  “When we get back we need to make sure we have everything we need,” the lieutenant says. “We might be up at the laboratory in Los Alamos for weeks without any support, so we need to get some extra rations, ammo, and everything else. We need to plan ahead for any contingency.”

  “Damn it,” says Logan.

  “What’s the issue, agent?” Will says.

  “I lost contact with our team in Chicago,” says Logan. “Hopefully it’s just a communication issue.”

  “Keep trying,” Will tells him.

  “I am,” the agent says.

  We get back to the inn and find Gunny and the rest of the squad waiting for us in the hallway. For a second, I almost don’t realize it’s our guys since they’re dressed in jeans and shirts from the base exchange. They even brought back a new pair of jean shorts and a pink tank top for Claire. Mac gives a soft whistle as he sees her in the hallway.

  “What’s going on?” Will asks. “Gunny, please tell me some good news.”

  “We got four Victors parked behind the hangar near the airfield,” Gunny says. “It’s such a clusterfuck around here we just walked in to the motor pool and took them.”

  “At least something has gone right today,” the lieutenant says.

  “What did Jenson want?” Gunny asks.