Even Zombie Killers Get the Blues zk-1 Page 10

  Brit was climbing down slowly from the truck. I could see she was still hurting from her wound, and I didn’t want her to tear any of her surgical staples. The sooner we got her back to a clean environment, the better.

  Ahmed was, as always, pulling security, looking back down the highway to keep an eye on our rear. Doc and Jonesy hauled LTC Jackass out of the back of the truck, dumping him roughly on the ground. I took his hood off and ripped the tape from his mouth. He immediately started cursing all of us, telling us how he was going to have us arrested, shot, thrown in Leavenworth.

  I let him rant a little to remind me why we were doing this. Then I pulled out my .22 pistol and pointed it at his face. That shut him up, but I’ll give him credit. He pissed his pants again, but still looked me in the eye.

  “Lieutenant Colonel MacDonald, you tried to kill me and every member of my team. You were going to let Brit die. You bombed our home. As far as I’m concerned, you are responsible for killing more than thirty civilians when you shelled St. Johnsville, despite me telling you that there were civilians holed up there. You’re going to do it again, next chance you get. All for your glory.”

  He started to argue but I slapped tape back over his mouth. I didn’t want to hear his excuses. Jonesy and I carried him up the ladder, walked across the top of the wall, and dropped him into the waiting arms of the Zombies. I’m not even sure he screamed.

  “What, no long speech or convoluted plot to torture LTC Jackass?” asked Doc.

  I made a cutting gesture across my throat. “Screw that. I hated those movies where you have someone in your sights, and you take time to talk to them, or leave them tied up someplace to save them for later, then they get away. As far as I’m concerned, you have a chance to kill someone who needs killing, you go ahead and do it. Just like Captain Mal says.”

  “Damn, Nick, you are one stone-cold prick. And you gotta stop watching Firefly reruns,” said Jonesy.

  “Jonesy, you weren’t there in St. Johnsville. I said thirty civilians. It was adults and about twenty-five children, from what I could tell from the amount of body parts. Kids. Toddlers. They’d held out for almost two years, and fought so damn hard to protect those children. Along comes that asswipe and he just levels the town. He had me arrested when I tried to countermand his orders over the Fires Net.”

  Below me, the Zs we gnawing on the still-struggling LTC Jackass. He gave one last thrash, then died.

  “I had to go in there for “effects assessment” because that asshole had to try out his new toys, see how well they did. Do you know what a couple hundred steel bearings do to a three year-old?”

  I leaned over and spit on the still corpse of LTC Jackass, watching. I didn’t have long to wait. It struggled to stand, collapsing on one chewed off leg. Funny, but as soon as you were dead, the Zs often left you alone. It was as if they just wanted your life. That to me was even scarier than them eating your brains.

  I leaned over and put two .22 rounds into the ranger brush cut of the fresh Zombie and it crumpled to the ground.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” asked Doc.

  “I may be a prick, like Jonesy said, but I’m not that much of a prick to leave him like that,” I said. “Next stop, Firebase Benedict.”

  We rolled south on Interstate 787, taking the lane cleared by the Engineers. Occasionally we drove over a Zombie that had wandered onto the highway. The truck had an inverted V of metal welded onto the front, kinda like an old “cow catcher” that trains had on in the Old West. Hit a Z, and it got tossed to one side.

  Brit drove, happy to be doing something after being confined to a hospital bed for more than two weeks. Every now and then she would see a Z on the road ahead, stomp on the gas and swerve to hit it. One splattered up and over the hood, spraying the windshield with blood. She laughed hysterically and hit the wipers.

  “What the F is wrong with you, woman?” I yelled, trying to hold onto the radio mount so I didn’t get banged around. HUMVEE’s aren’t full of soft round leather curves. They are full of sharp, metal angles that will beat the crap out of you.

  “I like to see them pop, and you gotta have some speed or else they just get crumbly. Hit them hard enough, and they pop.” She laughed maniacally, her deep, evil-villain laugh.

  “You seriously need to get laid, woman!” yelled Jonesy from up in the turret.

  “Ya think? How about it, J, you and me? Once you go white, you never go, ah… damn, nothing rhymes with white!”

  “Where do I pick a number?”

  “Get in line, Superstud.”

  It was all good. My team was back together again.

  Chapter 28

  Jonesy kicked me in the shoulder.

  “Hey Nick, where the hell is the dog?”

  “What dog?” I made a swirling “he’s crazy” motion next to my head and Brit smirked.

  “The dog, man. Rocket. We had a dog when we started out on the last mission.”

  “Jonesy, for the last time, there was no dog. Doc, can you please give him some more meds? He’s starting with the dog thing again.”

  “Nick, quit fucking with me. WE HAD A DOG.”

  “I am not messing with you, Jonesy. I don’t know why you think we had a dog.”

  “Yo, we had a dog, and his name was Rocket, and he was with us when we left the house.”

  “Any of you remember a dog?”

  A chorus of no, nope, I would have eaten it, negative.

  “You all are crazy. We had a dog.”

  Jonesy went back to scanning for targets up in the turret. Every now and then I could hear him mutter I KNOW WE HAD A DOG.

  Stress. It gets to people.

  PART II

  Chapter 29

  We pulled into Firebase Benedict an hour later. The base itself sat on the remains of the Port of Albany, which had burned down to the ground in a firestorm early in the Apocalypse. The ground was crisped black where it hadn’t been dragged up by the bulldozers berming up the base. The oil had soaked into the ground, making it a nasty mess.

  Something they missed again in the Zombie movies. When civilization breaks down, it breaks down. Like I said before, things burn. When industrial facilities were left unattended, whether through negligence or arson, they lit up like a torch. I remember watching from the hills as the columns of smoke rose above the cities. The fuel oil and other flammables burned for days on end. Around us, as we pulled in, the pipes and tanks lay at crazy angles, melted and sagging. All the ports on the East Coast, the Gulf area, the refineries had burned for days and days on end. In the Gulf, oil platforms still burned. Wellheads had been pouring oil into the water until the Navy had detonated nukes right over the wellheads, fusing the seabed. I’m pretty sure the fish from the gulf area would be glowing in the dark for a while, but better than billions of gallons of oil gushing into the water.

  The guys at the gate were processing civilians onto the base for a work detail. Outside the gate, enclosed in another berm, was a tent city run by FEMA. Civilian refugees lived in the tents, waiting to get resettled back west, or just recovering from the ordeal of the last few years. I stayed out of the camps with a passion. Many of them were sorts of zombies themselves who were overjoyed the government had finally come to save them. Forced to survive, they dropped everything as soon as someone came along to “rescue” them. They came in by ones and twos, in small groups, following the helos broadcasting a “FOLLOW ME” relief message as they flew around the Hudson Valley and the surrounding areas.

  Many stayed out there. We ran into them occasionally, like the farmers up by Schuylerville. They didn’t need anyone to come rescue them, and I liked hanging with them. However, we needed rest, food, ammo, medical care for Brit and direction on where to go next. Our house was destroyed, and I didn’t want to hang out with the Army for too long.

  We were in the chow hall when a UH-60 came thundering down onto the pad, and in a few minutes, Major Flynn, the Task Force Empire Operations Officer, walked into the ten
t, followed by a squad of Infantry. They spread out to cover every angle, and he walked up and sat down at our table. You could have heard a pin drop.

  “Morning, Nick.”

  “Morning, John.”

  He looked around for a second, and then took a deep breath.

  “I’m only going to ask you this once.”

  I noticed Brit sliding her hand towards her leg holster, and one of the troops started to raise his M-4. I held up my finger, she slid her hand away and Major Kelley shook his head toward the trooper. He lowered his rifle, but I could see him eyeing Brit. She stared back at him.

  Major Flynn started again. “LTC MacDonald disappeared off Fort Orange sometime last night. Your crew rolled out of the gate there sometime early this morning, and no one remembers you coming onto the base at all. We’ve had a Predator following you down from Troy, all along 787, and the cameras on the Hoosick Street Bridge barricade mysteriously short circuited just before we picked you up with the UAV. A team sent to check out the site reported a huge crowd of zombies pushing up against the barricades.”

  I thought furiously. Down 787 from Troy. So they hadn’t seen what had happened at the barricade, and there was nothing they could prove. Time to play my cards close.

  “So, like I said, I’m only going to ask you once. Did you have anything to do with LTC MacDonald going missing?”

  I lied straight to his face, and he knew it.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We came to pick up Brit.”

  “Kind of funny when you were reported dead a few days ago.”

  “Well, we are kinda hard to kill, I suppose. Why don’t you ask his toady, SGM Peters? They’re never too far from each other.”

  “Kinda funny that you mention him. Apparently, also last night, someone broke SGM Peter’s jaw and gave him a concussion. Strange coincidences, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Sir, you’re sitting talking to me on a base constructed in a major American city which has burned to the ground, after we were overrun by dead people who came back alive and wanted to eat us. Nothing surprises me anymore. If the Pope turned out to be the Navy SEAL who killed Bin Laden, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Brit actually laughed, and a small smile broke on Major Flynn’s hard scowl. He sat back on the bench and studied all of us for a minute. Then he stood up, and motioned for his squad to follow him.

  “I didn’t like that asshole either, Nick. Next time, be more careful. We almost caught you in the act. In fact, to ensure there is no next time, you’re going to have some company on your next mission.”

  “Like I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Check your e-mail, new mission orders in there. Take your time to get rested up, and next time Jonesy punches someone in the head, tell him to take off his rings first. FYI, I’m acting commander of the Task Force now, so keep your shit wired tight.”

  I shot a quick look at Jonesy, who glanced down at the big rings on his right hand. Major Flynn laughed and walked out the tent, followed by his goons.

  Chapter 30

  FROM: CDR@TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL

  TO: LOSTBOYS6@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL

  CC: S3@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL; J3@MIDATLCOM.MIL; JFOPS@NAVY.MIDATLCOM.MIL

  SUBJ: FRAGO 21 OPORDER 17-034 OPERATION HAWKEYE

  REFERENCE:

  TASK ORGANIZATION: IRREGULAR SCOUTS / TF EMPIRE / U.S. ARMY / MIDATLANTIC COMMAND

  1. SITUATION: Unknown conditions at United States Military Academy

  2. MISSION: Determine strength of infestation of grounds USMA. Determine usability of facilities. Examine Bear Mountain Bridge and NY State Military Facilities at Camp Smith.

  3. EXECUTION: NLT 20170815100 unit will provide information to higher command on location conditions. Travel will be downriver using TF Empire Naval Elements, with insertion of team onto USMA grounds on west side of Hudson River.

  4. SUSTAINMENT: None

  5. COMMAND / SIGNAL: PER OPERATIONS ORDER 17-034 ANNEX B

  We gathered in the Firebase Ops tent and I cleared off a table, spreading out a set of 1:100k maps of the Hudson Valley, from Albany down to just above New York City. Various things were marked out on the map.

  “OK, listen up. This is the best and latest Intel we have from over flights, recon patrols, and refugees.” I handed a pointer to Captain Featherstone, the Firebase Intelligence Officer.

  “First up, environmental issues. We’ve got a red zone here—” and he pointed to an area in northern Westchester County “—where Indian Point Reactor had a full meltdown. The area downwind, due east mostly for 20 miles, is a hot zone. I know you’re not going that far downriver, but any Zs you meet south of, say, Bear Mountain Bridge, are going to probably be hot. That means ANY contact with them and you can get secondary radiation poisoning. So, MOPP suits in that area.”

  The crew broke out in laughter, and the Captain got a puzzled look on his face. Jonesy filled him in.

  “No offense to your fobbitness, Sir, but ain’t no way we are going to wear them things. Middle of summer, wearing full chemical gear, and we gotta run from Z? We gonna drop after a hundred meters sprint and we be dead anyway. Plus, you ain’t got one my size. Then again, I be running free and crazy, and the rest of them guys get eaten! Hahahah! OW! You white she-devil!”

  Brit had punched him as hard as she could in the shoulder.{1}

  “OK, I’m just letting you know the dangers. Next, Newburgh on the west and Poughkeepsie on the east, major, major infestations. Also, there is a horde of strays moving south down from Fishkill towards Camp Smith. Estimate ten thousand plus. They should be past the Camp Smith AO by the time you insert. We’ve got a Predator watching them, so we’ll let you know if that changes.”

  “Yeah right” Doc muttered under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing!” he said brightly, and he smiled at the Captain. I drummed my fingers on the table and motioned for the S-2 to continue.

  “Right, then. Next is refugees and other human activity. Recon tangled with a hold out here, just south of Catskill. Tried to bring them in and they were fired on. Lost one KIA and two wounded.”

  I was up in the air about the “bringing them in” part. Official policy was establishing contact, provide supplies, and talk to them about coming into the refugee camps. Thing is, few people who had survived the last few years wanted to be part of the big government anymore. My team left them alone, but some of the team leaders were a bit pushier Problem is, they often pushed back. Sometimes it’s still the wild, wild east.

  “We expect that there are others in the mountainous areas in the Catskills, and up in the Taconic Hills. Down by the river, though, not much expected. Everyone was pretty much starved out. That’s all I’ve got.”

  “What about West Point, Camp Smith, all the areas we’re going to be humping a ruck?”

  “What about them?”

  “Do you have any Intel?”

  “Isn’t that why you’re going there?”

  “I guess so. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Apparently my sarcasm went right over his head.

  The Operations Officer stepped over, and took up the briefing.

  “In support of ongoing recon operations, we’re moving a two-gun, 105mm Howitzer section by barge down to Bannerman Island to establish a blocking position and Combat Outpost, COP Castle. Attached will be an Infantry platoon and Engineering Squad, plus a commo detachment for signal relay.”

  “Your team will be inserted by gunboat at this point—” and he tapped the map on the west bank of the River, “—just above the lower landing at the West Point grounds. Your objective is to recon the grounds of the US Military Academy, check and see if the place can be used.”

  “Can I ask you a question? Why West Point? There are a lot of better places to fortify, and it’s not really much of a strategic place anymore. I don’t think the Zombies will be sailing up the river anytime soon.”

  Ahmed answered me. “I
t’s like this, Nick. Of course in today’s day, there is no need for fortifications as such. However, it is a very powerful symbol to the American people. A sign that things are getting back to normal as such.”

  The Ops officer nodded. “Pretty much. You’re going to put your asses on the line to make a statement. Nothing new.”

  “Better than being fed a line of bullshit. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Your other objective is Camp Smith. NY Army National Guard base. We’re interested in the barracks, arms rooms, backup generators, etc. The base is a lot smaller, more easily defended than West Point. Let us know how habitable it is.”

  “Isn’t that a little close to Indian Point?”

  “Over flight sensors say that it’s safe.”

  Brit snickered and he shot her a dirty look.

  “It’s a simple in and out. No more than three days on the ground.”

  “So was the last mission. Brit got shot, and we lost three team members.”

  “Well then, this should be a vacation for you. See you in a week. The boat leaves at 0700.”

  We broke up the meeting, and each of us went our separate ways. Scrounge ammo, eat a good meal, take care of equipment, catch up on Power Point Ranger’s cartoons, update Facebook status, call home from the Verizon Phone Tent, let the world know we’re still alive.

  Chapter 31

  “Sergeant Agostine! Sergeant Agostine!”

  I stopped and turned around. A squeaky new 2nd LT came striding over the dirt towards me, followed by two equally new privates. He was dressed in brand new multicams. I felt like a dirtbag compared to him, with my leather jacket, scuffed kneepads, and three day growth of beard. In other words, he stood out like a sore thumb compared to the slightly used look of the post-Zombie Army.