by Brian Parker
Jake didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as the general’s aide closed the door behind him. Iron Six was right. It was a tragedy that so many people lost their lives, but that meant that fewer people eating the dwindling food supplies. In all honesty, out of a four million-refugee population, it wasn’t even that many people, but it would help.
“Oh my God,” Jake chastised himself as he took the stairs to the first floor. “I can’t believe that I just thought that the death of innocent civilians was a good thing.”
They obviously weren’t all innocent, he told himself, referring to the instigators and the aggressors in the crowd who’d fired on the soldiers. The Third Platoon had lost two dead and a bunch of wounded, but the Civilian Division had taken a pounding. He hadn’t seen official reports yet, but his roommate, Joe, said they’d had over a hundred people killed. They’d been right in the thick of things delivering the rations when the riot turned deadly.
He walked across the entryway, his boots squeaking annoyingly on the tile floor. He’d always hated coming over to the division headquarters, even more so now when compared to the conditions in the refugee camps. While those people lived in terrible, overcrowded conditions, this big building was unoccupied except for staff, and was always kept spotless. It could probably hold five thousand people, maybe more.
And then his thoughts from the stairwell hit him, hard enough this time that he paused for a moment before continuing through the glass doors to the outside. Even if the headquarters building were opened up and ten thousand people were able to move into it to get out of Tent City, it wouldn’t even make a dent in the population out there.
Four million. There were four million refugees crammed inside the walls of Fort Bliss. Four million mouths to feed, every day. It was a losing battle. The food runs were only delaying the inevitable. The land inside the base wasn’t good for crop farming, even if they could find enough of it to do anything with. They would run out of food sooner or later and then, what? Cannibalism? What else could that many people do for food? When people are hungry enough, they’ll do some crazy shit.
“It’s a losing battle,” Jake mumbled, repeating what he’d just thought. “My men are going to keep risking their lives to fight a losing battle.”
For the first time in his career, Jake considered giving up. He could take off his uniform and melt into the camps, lie down and give up like everyone else and wait for the inevitable end to come.
It was an interesting prospect, but it wasn’t who he was. He would fight and in all likelihood, die for the people in those camps. “No,” he continued, eliciting stares from passersby. “I’ll stick around, and we’ll make this thing work.”
“I remember you,” Sidney told the officer sitting at the table beside her. When he’d sat down at the dining hall table beside her and Caitlyn, it took her a moment to remember why he looked familiar, but she was good with faces and recognized where she’d seen him before.
“Excuse me?” the man replied.
“You were on the checkpoint…was it Checkpoint Fox? The first line of defense around the city back in the old days.”
“Foxtrot.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” she said. “You were the guy in charge out there when I came through.”
He shrugged. “I was out there for almost a month. Did you, ah…” he stared pointedly at her stomach. “Did you decide to join the Civilian Division, then?”
“No, I was in the refugee camp until yesterday.”
“What she means, sir,” Caitlyn interjected quickly, “is that she would have joined the CD if they would have let her, but since she’s pregnant, they wouldn’t.”
Lieutenant Murphy glanced at the NCO and then back at Sidney. “So, what are you doing here on the Main Cantonment, eating in the soldiers’ dining hall?”
“We got her permission—”
The lieutenant held up his hand, indicating that Caitlyn needed to stop talking. “I asked her, Sergeant. Not you.”
Sidney picked up her napkin and began to twist it. “I’m here because I was the cause of the food riot yesterday at Camp Three, the one that all those people died at.”
He set his fork down. “Go on.”
“A few days ago, I tried to come over here to see if there were any clothes for me. Everything I had with me when I arrived was for a size zero, and obviously,” she leaned back and patted her belly, “I can’t wear it anymore. There aren’t any supplies available for refugees.”
He rolled his hand, indicating that she should continue . “And?”
“And Caitlyn—Staff Sergeant Wyatt—stopped me and offered to help.”
“Is that right?” He looked pointedly at Caitlyn.
“Yes, sir,” she answered. “It isn’t against the regs to allow a refugee escorted access to the Main Post.”
“I know it’s not. Hell, half of my platoon has dated a camp woman, but—”
“A what?” Sidney hissed.
The lieutenant held up his hands. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean any offense. I meant to say that people are allowed to go back and forth with an escort, but I’ve never heard of anyone getting clothing from Supply. Is that even legal?”
“It wasn’t from the Supply Sergeant, sir,” Caitlyn continued. “I took her to the PX and she bought a few pairs of sweat pants and tank tops with cash.”
“Hmpf,” he snorted. “I don’t know why they bother with taking cash anymore. It’s worthless.”
“Well, I’m glad they did,” Sidney said. “Otherwise I’d be screwed.”
He shrugged and took a bite of meat that the menu said was beef, but she wasn’t sure where they’d have gotten it, unless those helicopters flying all over the place were just ferrying food from massive warehouses somewhere. “So, how did you start the riot?”
“People saw me with bags of clothes, a box of diapers, and a car seat. They jumped to conclusions, accusing me of getting food that wasn’t available to them, and…” She trailed off purposefully.
“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “It doesn’t make any sense, but in a way, it makes perfect sense. Even the soldier’s diet has shrunk by an entire meal, and the portion sizes are easily half of what they were on day one. And we’re expected to go out there and fight every day. I can’t imagine what they’re giving the refugees.”
“One meal a day, smaller than this one here,” Sidney pointed at her tray on the table in front of her. “Nobody’s dying of starvation that I know of, but it isn’t pretty over there. People get attacked for scraps of food all the time.”
“I wish there was something we could do,” Lieutenant Murphy replied. “I really do. To be honest, we never thought this many of the infected would come to the desert or that they’d be able to survive this long. As far as I know, Fort Bliss and El Paso were supposed to be a temporary solution, a few months at most while the infected died out.”
“All your smarty-pants planners didn’t ask anyone on the run from those things, did they?” Sidney grunted.
“What do you mean?”
“Those things out there just followed the sights and sounds. At first, it was the lines of cars, coming from all over the nation to one place. Then it was the sounds of helicopters taking off, planes flying around, people shooting guns everywhere. Now, all the shooting that you guys do, the morning Reveille, the loudspeaker announcements, and evening Retreat… All of it just continues to lure them in. Stop making all that damn noise for a few days and we’d get some breathing room.”
“You don’t get it, do you—I’m sorry, I never got your name.”
“Sidney Bannister,” she stated, using Lincoln’s last name instead of her real name of Wagner. They’d never formalized anything, and had been on the verge of breaking up when he died, but there wouldn’t be any records of anything for a long time, if ever, so she’d decided to use his last name. It’d make things easier on the kid.
“Okay, Miss Bannister,” he said. “We’re out there putting our lives on the line e
very goddamn day for people like you to cower behind the safety of the walls, while—”
“Sir,” Caitlyn interjected.
He turned to her and then gritted his teeth. “You’re right, Sergeant. I’m sorry, Sidney. I’m just passionate about this. The men and women up on those walls are the only thing keeping around four million people safe. If we weren’t up there killing those things all day and all night, every day, then this place would be overrun in a matter of hours.”
“Would it?” Sidney asked. “Think about it logically, not like a soldier.”
“Pfft,” he spat.
“Okay, that came out wrong,” she agreed. “Think about it from a different perspective. Those things are drawn to sight and sound, right?”
“We’re pretty sure of it, yeah,” he said. “But they could be able to smell too.”
“I haven’t seen that, and I got myself stuck behind the forward edge of them for more than a month. All I did was observe them—all day, every day,” she added for emphasis to let him know that she understood his earlier point. “When they scream, the others with them scream and it alerts others farther away, who scream in response and head toward the original infected who started screaming. And this goes down the line, who knows for how long and how far they echo one another?”
“So they hunt by sight and sound, and we’re this giant army base giving off all sorts of noises that travel for miles and miles,” the lieutenant said, warming to the idea.
“Exactly.”
“Even at night, we’re shooting,” Caitlyn said, joining the discussion. “We drive the Strykers around and fly helicopters everywhere.”
“And those goddamn searchlights,” Sidney groaned. “Those are like a visual beacon for probably twenty miles or more.”
“Closer to forty out here in the flat desert,” Lieutenant Murphy replied. “And then those infected at the forty-mile mark start screaming, bringing in ones from farther out…”
“It’s a giant loop of calling them to us,” Sidney finished.
“Well, shit,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “What are we supposed to do about it?”
Sidney winked at him. “That’s when I need you to put your soldier hat back on and figure it out.”
“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Miss Bannister. I don’t know what to do with those thoughts yet, but it’s definitely an intriguing proposition to not be fighting every day.”
“I mean, what harm can come from trying to keep quiet and out of sight for one day or one night?” she asked. “Worst case scenario, they build up a giant horde outside the walls and you blast a whole bunch at one time.”
He nodded and drank the rest of his water. “Alright. I’ve gotta go on the wall. I hope to see you again soon, ma’am.” He stood and glanced at Caitlyn. “You keep her safe over here, okay, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.”
They watched the lieutenant leave and then Sidney took a quick bite of the meatlike substance, smiling at Caitlyn. “Damn, girl,” the soldier said. “You’re good.”
“I used to be a lawyer for a non-profit,” she laughed. “I got good at convincing people to do what I want by feeding them bits of information and letting them think that they worked things out for themselves.”
“Don’t try that shit on me.”
“Maybe I already have.”
11
* * *
NEAR LIBERAL, KANSAS
SEPTEMBER 30TH
“There’s two of ’em out on the back forty, Mr. Campbell.”
The old man sighed and shook his head at the news that John brought. The number of infected had diminished steadily over the last few months, but that didn’t mean that he could let his guard down. His family’s life depended on him and the boys killing every one of them efficiently, without drawing more to the farm.
“Alright,” he exhaled, pushing his half-finished plate of eggs and sausage away from him. “Let’s go take care of it.”
“Scott and I can take care of it, Mr. Campbell,” Jesse, one of the farmhands who’d stayed on, said. “You stay here and finish breakfast. We’ll head out and take care of them.”
“Thank you for the offer, Jesse, but it don’t feel right lettin’ others do my work when I’m just as capable of doin’ it myself. I was just about done anyways.”
“Grandpa, why don’t you let Jesse handle this one? You know, stay here at the house in case more come from the west.”
He regarded his granddaughter for a moment before speaking. “Now, Katie. I appreciate you trying to keep me safe, but don’t you worry about me.”
“Grandpa, please. Just let the boys take care of it this time.”
Vern glanced over to the ranch hands, Jesse and Scott, and then nodded. They both slugged back their glasses of water, then rushed out of the room.
“There, you girls happy?” he asked his two grandchildren.
“Yes, sir,” Sally said, smiling sweetly, her blonde curls bouncing as she nodded. “We think you need to slow down, Grandpa. Maybe even teach us how to help defend the farm one day.”
“Now, girls. We aren’t gonna go over that again. You’re too precious to me. I don’t know what I’d do if the same thing that happened to your father happened to either of you.”
Vern pulled his plate to him, stabbing a piece of sausage with his fork. He glanced out the window at the pole barn where the ass end of an RV stuck out as a stark reminder of all that the Campbell family had lost. When the outbreak occurred, his son, Jeff and his wife, Katherine, were visiting their daughters at the university up in Lawrence for softball season. They were living the so-called American dream. Both Jeff and his wife retired at forty-five after some lucrative online trading, sold their house and most of their possessions to buy an RV, then spent their time traveling the country. Vern thought it was the dumbest thing his misguided son could have done with his life.
Turns out, the RV was a godsend—in a way. Jeff was attacked and bitten while trying to find the girls on campus. He found them and was able to get them to the RV before he became too weak from blood loss to continue. Katherine drove the RV to the hospital, which was overwhelmed with infected, so they headed straight to Vern’s farm. The big vehicle helped them plow through roadblocks that local police and the HiPo set up along Highway 54 in a misguided effort to keep the infection from spreading.
By the time Kat and the girls pulled up, Jeff was too far gone to speak. He turned within an hour of their arrival. They’d locked him inside the RV initially while the girls scoured the Internet for information about the disease and if there was any cure. Of course, there was none. The disease traveled too fast and appeared in too many locations simultaneously for the CDC to do anything about it before they got themselves overrun trying to set up a safe zone in Atlanta.
After a week, Vern made the toughest decision of his life. Even though he and his son weren’t as close as he’d have liked it, never in a million years would he have thought he would have to kill his own flesh and blood. By that time, he and the farmhands were already used to dealing with the infected wandering across their land, so it was a simple task to set up a small fence around the door of the RV to let the thing that used to be Jeff out of the vehicle. He’d burst out the door, screaming his hatred like all of them did. He got tangled up in the wire and Vern had to put the emaciated man down with a 9-pound hammer.
Jeff’s death, while it sickened him, also gave Vern hope. Upon inspection of the interior of the RV, Jeff had torn the place to shreds. He’d eaten the leather and stuffing from the seats, which told Vern that the infected still needed to eat. Jeff had lost easily twenty pounds in the week he was trapped, even with attempting to eat parts of the RV.
If they could survive long enough to wait them out, the infected would all starve to death.
“Grandpa, can Sally and I go with the boys?” Katie asked.
“What?” he barked, shaking his head to clear away the bad memories. “Didn’t I just say no?”
&
nbsp; “We need to learn how to defend ourselves, Grandpa,” Sally stated. “You and the farmhands have been doing all the work for so long. We both want—no, we need to be able to help. With Mom, well, you know. With her the way she is, we need to be able to protect her if the infected make it past the fences.”
Kat hadn’t been the same since Jeff’s death. The two of them were dreamers with their heads in the clouds. They were madly in love, even after more than twenty years of marriage. His daughter-in-law was nearly catatonic for three days after the incident, but eventually came out of it enough to answer simple questions. Even now, months afterward, she usually just sat in the sunroom staring out the windows. A couple of times, she’d made hateful, offhanded remarks about his abilities with a hammer that he mostly ignored. If anything were to make it past the line of defenses that he and the farmhands had devised, then she was a goner for sure.
“They aren’t going to make it past the fence,” he assured the girls.
“Says you, Grandpa,” Katie replied. “You always told us to be self-sufficient and to look after ourselves. Well, so far you and the boys have been doing that for us. What if me and Sally are out one day, without you guys around? It’s—”
“Okay, enough,” Vern grumbled. They were full-grown women, not the little kids he still imagined them to be. If he was truly trying to protect them and teach them the ways of the world, then they needed to know how to defend themselves against the infected. Maybe it was time. “You’re right. I’ve sheltered you girls long enough. Two of them loonies aren’t a major cause for concern, so—”
“Oh, thank you, Grandpa!” Katie exclaimed, rushing over to kiss him on the cheek. Through his younger granddaughter’s tangle of dark brown hair, he saw Sally already shrugging into a thick jean jacket, smiling.
Sally high-stepped her way through the tall grass toward the back fields where John had spotted two of the infected struggling against the barbed wire fence. Her hands were slick with sweat on the leather grip of the baseball bat she held. She’d talked about this day for months with her younger sister, Katie. Grandpa finally agreed to let them go out to learn how to kill the infected.