ROTD (Book 3): Rage of the Dead

by Dyson, Jeremy

  “No problem,” I sigh.

  “You’re a good guy,” she mumbles.

  She starts to snore lightly a few seconds later.

  “No,” I say. “I’m not.”

  I stare up at the ceiling again. I try to close my eyes and not think about everything that happened since I left Pickel Meadows, but even after I fall asleep my brain replays the nightmare over and over again.

  Forty-one

  The next morning, I wake up and look over to see Natalie standing next to the other bed. She doesn’t realize I’m awake as she peels off her shirt and bra.

  I can’t help but look at her. Numerous scars mar the pale skin on her back. She bends down to pick up her shirt off the bed, and then she turns around and sees me awake and staring at her. Her hands bring the shirt up to cover her body and then she quickly slips it over her head and puts it on.

  “Good morning,” she says.

  I sit up in the bed and swipe a hand over my face.

  “Good morning,” I say back to her.

  “I’m going to go find some breakfast,” she says. “I’m fucking starving.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I say. “Give me a sec.”

  She waits impatiently by the door while I pull my boots back on and struggle to tie the laces with my mangled hand. Then I follow her out into the hall and we wander around the facility until we locate the cafeteria.

  The two of us get a lot of strange looks. Everyone inside this facility wears clean clothes. They have trimmed hair and don’t smell like shit. They have been in here since the beginning. None of them have had to endure the type of things that have happened to us.

  “Maybe we should have taken a shower first,” I say.

  “Fuck that,” Natalie says. “I’m too hungry to care.”

  I can’t help but smile. As much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, this chick is growing on me.

  After we eat, the man we met when we arrived comes and finds us in the cafeteria. He brings us to a conference room where two secret service agents in black suits are posted outside the door. We follow the man in the white shirt inside and see Scout, Blake, Claire and Dr. Schoenheim sitting around a table. Stevie plays with Stitch in the corner by bouncing a tennis ball and watching as the dog tries to snag it out of the air.

  The man in the white shirt leaves the room and we sit around for several minutes staring at each other. Maybe we should be happy that we’re here. We should be celebrating or something. The truth is we all lost so much to get here, that it doesn’t feel like we have any reasons left to be happy except that we’re alive.

  Maybe that should be enough. Maybe one day it will be.

  A man in a navy suit opens the door and greets us as he comes in the room.

  “Let me introduce myself,” he says. “I’m—”

  “Senator Bob McGrath,” I say. “From Colorado. Pro tem of the Senate.”

  I never forget a face.

  “Well, that’s mostly correct,” he says. “Now, I am the 47th President of the United States of America.”

  He looks around at our astonished faces.

  “As you can imagine,” he says. “A great deal has happened since Z-day. That is what many here have taken to calling it.”

  He proceeds to update us on what is happening around the country. We already know, it’s not good. However, it is not as hopeless as I was afraid it would be.

  There are still elements of the armed forces and the government that have managed to survive through the crisis. The remaining military assets are primarily submarines and a handful of aircraft carriers. Although the presidential bunker in Washington was compromised in the early days, several other top secret hardened sites around the country remain secure.

  “We even have a few remaining doomsday cells that are still active,” he says.

  “Doomsday cells?” Blake asks.

  “Yes,” McGrath says. “I believe you were at one of their operations centers back in Chicago.”

  “The bunker,” Blake says. “But it was empty when we got there.”

  “Unfortunately, many of them were compromised before they ever reached the operation centers,” McGrath explains.

  “Mr. President,” Claire says. “We really appreciate everything, but Doctor Schoenheim and I would really like to get into the laboratory and get to work.”

  “I completely understand,” McGrath says. He gestures to the man in the white shirt waiting in the hallway. “If you want to go with Agent Calloway, he’ll show you to the lab. He was the one that made getting you here a top priority, so if you need anything else for your work he will do his best to make it happen.”

  Claire and the Doctor get up from their seats and shake hands with the president before they follow Agent Calloway out of the room.

  “Thank you all,” says McGrath. “Our country owes all of you for everything you have gone through and the sacrifices you have made to give us hope. Please make yourselves at home here. The accommodations leave much to be desired, but it is my hope that we will one day soon begin to reclaim and rebuild our great nation.”

  We stand up from our seats and the new leader of whatever remains of our country stands by the door and shakes hands with us as we get ready to leave the room. He knows all of our names. Apparently he has been monitoring our situation all along, even if no one here was willing to risk their own asses to venture out there and help us.

  After he crouches down to give Stevie a hug and pets Stitch on the head, he stands back up and looks me in the eye. I’m about to salute him, but instead he holds out his left hand to shake mine.

  “Corporal,” he says.

  I hold out my hand and return the gesture.

  “Mr. President,” I say.

  He hangs on to my hand for a long moment.

  “I’m afraid I also have some bad news,” he says. “It concerns your father.”

  I already know what he is going to say.

  “Okay,” I say.

  “His helicopter went down during a rescue operation in Germany. He has been missing and is presumed dead.”

  The words sink in, but I don’t feel anything. I look down at the floor and wait for him to continue. Then I realize that they don’t know him like I do. I am certain the old bastard is still alive.

  “I’m sorry,” McGrath says.

  “Thank you for letting me know,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

  “Lastly, I wanted to say how much your journey has inspired everyone here,” he says. “I’m going to be honored to present you with the Congressional Medal of Honor.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” I say. “That is not necessary. I was just doing my job.”

  “I thought you might say that,” McGrath says. “But it is not just about you. All of the people in here and around the world need a hero right now. They need to see that we are making progress. That we can win this fight. They need hope.”

  The thought makes me uncomfortable. I never wanted to be that guy. The one that was getting medals and being proclaimed a hero. It’s not what I signed up for.

  “I’m not—” I say but McGrath interrupts me.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he tells me. “This is what America needs from you right now.”

  I don’t know how to respond. It’s not like I can say no to the President of the United States. So, I just reluctantly nod my head.

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” I say.

  He releases my hand and I step between the secret service agents as I make my way back out into the hall. I find Natalie waiting for me just a few feet away.

  “Medal of Honor, huh?” she smiles.

  “Shut up,” I shake my head.

  “Come on,” she says as she tilts her head toward the rest of the group. “We’re going to have a look around.”

  She takes a few steps before she notices I’m not moving. I stare at all of them in the hallway. Blake shifts his weight impatiently as he holds Danielle’s hand.

  “You coming?�
�� Natalie asks me.

  “No thanks,” I tell her. “I’m still just worn out. Going to head back to the room.”

  “Suit yourself,” she says and then she follows the rest of the group down the hall.

  I just don’t feel like being around anyone right now. It’s still hard to return to a world that feels so fucking normal and mundane. Maybe after a little more time to process everything it won’t feel so strange to me.

  When I get back to the barracks, I hit the rain locker and then notice that someone has been in the room. There are some clean clothes on the bed. Pressed dress blues hang in the locker. Probably for me to wear to the medal ceremony.

  I close the locker door and sit down on the bed. I pick up a plastic package with underwear inside and pry open the wrapper. Then I pry open a package of undershirts. It is not easy to get stuff like this anymore. I wonder if they got it from outside, or if they have a bunch of this stuff in here. If I would have had a look around, I guess I’d know. But there will be plenty of time for that.

  I have all the time in the world now.

  I get dressed and then I lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I keep hearing Hoff’s words over and over again in my mind.

  “They will make you a hero for this when it’s all over,” he said to me.

  I never gave it much thought, but somewhere inside I never actually expected to live long enough to get here.

  But here I am.

  Forty-Two

  The next morning I wake up and take the uniform from the closet and get dressed for the medal ceremony. I sit down on the bed and put some polish on the shoes.

  “Wow,” Natalie says. She blinks her eyes and then rubs them with her fingers. “Look at you.”

  That always was one benefit of the job. Women, whether they admit it or not, are always impressed by the uniform.

  “Thanks,” I say to her as I set the shoe back down on the seat of the chair beside the bed.

  “Hard to believe I’m looking at the same guy,” she says.

  I pick up the white gloves off the bed and look at them for a few seconds.

  “Not sure how to really make these work anymore,” I say to her.

  “Here,” Natalie says and holds out her hand to get the glove.

  I keep one glove and hand her the other. Then I slide my good hand into the fabric and watch as she tucks the fingers back inside the other glove.

  “Try that,” she says as she hands it back to me.

  I put the glove on and it sort of works, even though it feels a little ridiculous. It also sort of seems like I’m trying to hide it, when the reality is I don’t really give a damn. Not after everything I’ve been through.

  “Thanks,” I say to Natalie. “I better get going.”

  “I’m going to get dressed,” she says. “I’ll see you down there.”

  “You’re going?” I ask.

  “I was planning on it,” she says. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

  “No,” I say. “I just didn’t think you’d want to. But...”

  She raises her eyebrows and tries not to smile at me stammering.

  “I’d appreciate you being there,” I finally manage to say.

  “Okay,” she says. “Get out of here and let me get dressed then.”

  “Right,” I say and turn around. I head out into the hallway and close the door behind me.

  “Real smooth, Chase,” I mumble to myself as I walk down the hall.

  I get to the room and take a deep breath before I open the door and walk inside. There is a podium with flags in front of rows of chairs. Four television cameras are set up on tripods around the room and there is a desk with a pair of guys in headphones messing with the mixing board and monitors.

  They may only be broadcasting across the facility for now, but McGrath hopes to restore power and communications to reach more Americans in the near future.

  I see Claire and Doctor Schoenheim sitting in the front row beside Blake and Danielle, so I walk over and thank them for coming.

  “Big day for you,” Claire says.

  “I guess,” I say. “I’m still not really sure how I feel about all this.”

  “Just relax,” Blake says. “You lived through two months of hell. I think you can handle this.”

  “Thanks,” I say. I might not be crazy about the guy, but he makes sense sometimes.

  Several other Air Force officers in uniforms come in to the room and take seats in the back rows. Then Natalie follows them in and sits down at the end of the front row.

  “Where is Scout?” I ask them.

  “She’s coming,” Danielle says. “Stevie wasn’t exactly being cooperative about getting dressed this morning.”

  A few seconds later, I hear barking in the hall and the sound of Stevie laughing. The dog runs into the room with Stevie chasing after him.

  “Quit running,” Scout scolds the kid and paces quickly into the room behind him.

  Stitch runs a few circles around the podium and Stevie giggles while he chases after him.

  “Stitch,” Blake calls for the dog. “Settle down, Stitch.”

  The dog pauses, panting, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

  “Come here,” says Blake.

  The dog turns and runs the other way around the podium.

  “Stupid dog,” Blake complains as he gets out of his chair and captures the dog and pulls him by the collar as he returns to his seat.

  Within a few minutes, the room fills up and then President McGrath is escorted in by the secret service agents. He comes up and shakes my hand. My heart is thumping away in my chest as I stand in front of the cameras rolling and the people in the chairs looking at me. I can feel the sweat forming beneath my shirt and around my neck. President McGrath seems to talk forever, but I hardly pay attention to any of it.

  In the middle of his speech, Stitch darts up towards the podium and starts sniffing around the base of it. Blake tries to call him back but the dog just ignores him and lifts his leg and pisses on the podium. The crowd tries to remain respectful, but there is a moment of subdued laughter throughout the room.

  “Guess he thought he should have got the medal,” the President grins, drawing more laughter from the crowd.

  “Stitch, go!” I tell the dog when he stops peeing.

  The dog chases his tail in a circle and barks at me.

  “Get out of here,” I point toward Blake who is trying to call him over as well.

  The damn dog just chases his tail around again and looks at me and barks again.

  Finally, Blake gets out of his seat and grabs Stitch by the collar and pulls him off stage.

  McGrath pauses to allow the room to quiet down before he resumes speaking.

  “The brave members of Nightmare Company, fought side-by-side with members of Seal Team Four and the 375th Air Mobility Wing in a joint effort to make this day possible,” McGrath says. “So to honor them, let us take a moment to read the names of our fallen heroes and recognize their sacrifice.”

  He pauses and looks down at the list on the podium.

  “Captain Calvin James Kellogg...” he begins. “First Lieutenant William Michael Reasoner...”

  I stand there listening to the names being read. To everyone else in the room, it’s just names, but to me I see every single one of their faces. I hear their voices.

  “Sergeant Pedro Rodriguez,” McGrath continues. “Corporal James Mackenzie.”

  It feels like they are all here in the room with me somehow, but not in a good way. It feels heavy and dark and painful. My knees feel weak, but thanks to years of training, I remain perfectly still as I stand at attention.

  “Lieutenant Charles Fletcher,” McGrath says.

  Scout cups her hand over her mouth as she is overcome with emotion. Danielle hands Scout a tissue. Blake sniffs and wipes at the corner of his eye.

  I take a deep breath and try to tune everything out. I don’t want to be here anymore.

  Finally, McGrath calls out the
last name. Then he asks the ceremonial officer to bring up the medal and read the transcription. I turn around and wait for McGrath to put the medal around my neck and my eyes settle on the rest of the survivors in the front row. Except for the doctor and Stevie, all of them are a wreck after hearing the list of names being read.

  Seeing their pain makes me realize that this medal means nothing.

  I’m not the hero.

  Not more than Hoff, or Fletcher, or Mac, or Sarge, or Will.

  It feels like I’m suffocating in here. My chest tightens up so much I can’t even feel my heart beating anymore.

  The transcription ends and the President raises the medal over my head. He lowers it down so it rests on my chest and then fastens the latch in the back.

  The crowd of people in the room stand up and applaud. It seems to go on forever.

  I want to tell them to stop. This is all just bullshit.

  They have no idea about all the things that I’ve done or the things I would have done if no one was around to stop me.

  I don’t deserve to be standing up here with a medal around my neck.

  When I look around at their faces I wonder how they can smile. I wonder how they can possibly clap for a person like me.

  I feel the pain and anger and guilt boiling up inside me.

  They must stop clapping.

  Shut off the cameras.

  Stop pretending that this means anything.

  These people act like I’m some kind of fucking hero, but the reality is I am nothing.

  I am just trying to breathe.

  Epilogue

  Crickets chirp as dusk approaches. Beside the road, frogs croak in the lake and cicadas buzz in the evergreens. I smack a mosquito that settles on my arm as we sit inside the black SUV.

  I check the mirror to make sure the road is still clear. Can’t be too careful.

  Especially with the Reapers still around.

  I know it’s just matter of time before we will have to deal with them again.

  “It’s getting late, Scout,” I say. “We should start heading back.”

  “Give me a minute,” she says. She lowers the binoculars from her eyes and squints and then raises them back up again.