Dead America The Northwest Invasion | Book 12 | Dead America: Seattle [Part 10]

by Slaton, Derek

  Adams balked, shaking his head. “Fifteen hundred calories a day?” he demanded. “That’s not even going to keep our troops at their current weight, especially given their exertions.”

  “I understand that, General,” David replied quickly. “And if we need to up the calorie count on a limited basis to those doing the most work, I’m sure that can be arranged. But every day we’re above that fifteen hundred calorie average, it’s one less day we have on the calendar to get a sustainable source of food.”

  Adams crossed his arms, but then nodded begrudgingly.

  Williams waited to make sure he had nothing else to say and then looked around the room. “Does anybody have any idea what needs to be done to create a sustainable source of food for the community?” he asked.

  “In the short term, we need to get as many greenhouses up and operational as we can,” Kersey spoke up. “I'm not a farmer, but from what I understand, it can take three to four months to start harvesting. That’s cutting it close.”

  “There are more than enough hardware stores in the region that we should have the raw material to make that happen,” David added.

  “We just have to make sure we pick the correct areas to build them in, as they’re going to need sunlight,” Kersey continued. “The stadium fortress was having issues with their setup because the sun doesn’t get very high in the sky this time of year.”

  John nodded, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I know generator usage isn’t going to be practical given the fuel situation, but what about bike powered generators?” he suggested. “We literally have an army of fit human beings, we should be able to power lights, shouldn’t we?”

  “I think it would be more practical to use that manpower to take over the power stations and get them up and running,” Kersey countered, “but we can get into that once we’re done with the supply issues.”

  John raised a palm, conceding. “Agreed,” he said.

  “What about local farms?” Williams suggested. “Surely there have to be some farmers up there.”

  “Planting season has passed, and won’t be around until March,” David explained, “which is right around the time we’ll be running out of food.”

  Whitney crossed over to her seat and scribbled on her notepad. “I’ll have my team do sweeps of the area to locate the farms,” she said. “At the very least, we can spend the next few months preparing for planting season.”

  “I have a question,” Adams cut in, raising a hand. “Do we have anybody that knows a damn thing about farming? It’s one thing to plant some tomatoes in the backyard, but it’s another thing entirely to create a sustainable food source for two hundred thousand people.”

  “Based on my experience, General, there are a lot of people from the heartland who are in the military,” Kersey replied. “I’d be willing to bet that some of them grew up on farms.”

  The President leaned forward. “General Stephens, as soon as this meeting is concluded, I want you to start pulling anybody with farming experience off of the line and keep them protected,” he declared. “To put it bluntly, we can give anybody a weapon to fight, but specialized people are going to be hard to come by.”

  “Yes sir,” Stephens replied, “I will start pulling them immediately.”

  There was another shuffle of papers through the phone speaker, and then David said, “We may not be totally in the dark after all. I just looked at the census that Captain Galvan gave us when we opened up the stadium, and it looks like there are half a dozen farming families safely within the walls.”

  Williams nodded. “General Stephens, let’s build off of that,” he suggested. “Have the troops you locate coordinate with the farmers, so we can get some food growing.”

  “Yes, sir,” Stephens replied.

  Whitney held up her palm. “David, before we move on,” she said quickly, “can you get me a copy of that list? I won’t need names, I just need to know how many of what we have at our disposal.”

  “You got it,” David replied.

  Williams nodded appreciatively at her. “Please keep us up to date on the progress of the greenhouses and farms,” he said to the phone. “But for now, let’s move on to the next major concern. Fresh water.”

  “We have located several water treatment facilities, including some close to downtown,” Whitney reported, running a finger down her list. “These places are mostly automated, so it’s just going to be a matter of getting the power back on to get them operational again.”

  Adams took a deep breath. “Even so, we’re still going to need people who know how to operate these things,” he reminded her, “as well as keeping the pipes clear so the water keeps flowing.”

  “If I might add,” Kersey piped up, “in addition to the fresh drinking water, I think it would be nice to have a functioning restroom situation. Because to put it bluntly, two hundred thousand people can create a whole lot of shit. Not going to take long for the stench to become overwhelming.”

  “I don’t know Captain,” Stephens countered, “might be a welcome change from the stench of death in the air.”

  John shook his head, stifling a smile. “Without debating the merits of which smells worse, this does bring up another point,” he said. “What are we going to do with the millions of dead bodies? Just leaving them be will create a whole host of problems aside from the stench.”

  “They were loading them into dump trucks from outside the stadium,” David replied, “but I don’t think that’s going to be a viable solution for the city given the fuel situation.”

  Adams nodded. “That’s a good point, but let’s table the fuel situation for the moment,” he said. “Realistically, what can be done with that many bodies?”

  “Sadly, the only two viable options are mass graves and burning,” Kersey said, “and with our fuel situation I don’t think burning is going to be possible.”

  Williams pursed his lips for a moment. “David, please add two things to your list,” he finally said. “Please collect every shovel and manual digging instrument you can find, and coordinate with Miss Hill’s team about the best spots for mass graves.”

  There was a thick silence, as the overwhelming thought of burying the entire town of Seattle sank over everyone like a stone.

  “I’ll get it done, sir,” David finally said, voice a touch hoarse.

  The President pressed his palms down on the conference table. “Okay, on to the next major issue,” he said, blowing out a deep breath. “How are the military supplies looking? I know the MRE situation isn’t good, but how are we looking elsewhere?”

  “The fuel situation is dire, to say the least,” Stephens replied. “The consumer grade vehicles can utilize local gas stations and stay operational, at least for a while, but when it comes to aviation, we’re in trouble.”

  Adams’ brow furrowed. “Exactly how bad are we talking, Stephens?” he asked.

  “With what we have on the ships and airports we control,” the General replied, “we have about forty hours of flight time for our helicopters remaining, a little less if we’re transporting something heavy. The planes are even worse, with about twenty hours of flight time remaining on those.”

  Williams looked to Whitney. “Is it possible to take over some other airports in the region?”

  “We have a list of small regional airports,” she replied with a nod, “but for the most part, we’ll burn as much fuel getting to them as we’ll find there. In my opinion, we should leave them be so that if we have to do longer runs to Portland or beyond, we’ll have a spot to refuel and extend our range.”

  “I agree with Miss Hill,” Stephens said. “Having the ability to stretch our range is a lot more valuable than having a couple more tanks of gas here.”

  Williams shook his head. “What about the oil fields in Canada?’ he asked. “Wasn’t that one of the main reasons we picked Seattle as an invasion point?”

  “We are coordinating with the Canadian government to secure the fields and get workers up there a
gain,” John confirmed. “We also have our eye on processing facilities on the US/Canada border that we can utilize. The problem there is, we still have a significant zombie infestation problem that will need to be dealt with.”

  The President shrugged. “Well, we certainly have the manpower to handle that,” he said, looking around. “Don’t we?”

  “Manpower?” Stephens replied. “Absolutely. Ammunition is going to be an issue, however.”

  Williams pursed his lips. “How big of an issue?”

  “We expended a lot of rounds to secure the city,” Stephens explained. “We’ve allocated a significant number of rounds to the soldiers manning the lines. Essentially two bullets for every suspected zombie they may encounter.”

  Adams leaned forward. “What are the reserves looking like?” he asked.

  “Undistributed rounds?” Stephens replied, dragging out the word for a moment as he thought. “If we’re lucky, maybe half a million rounds, with ten percent of that being for the heavy weapons.”

  John rubbed his forehead. “Not sure how much damage we’re going to be able to do with every soldier getting three and a half rounds apiece,” he said dryly.

  “David,” Whitney spoke up, “how are the stores looking for ammunition?”

  “Ninety-five percent is consumer grade stuff,” the communications expert replied. “Nine mil, shotgun shells, and enough twenty-two ammo to fill the stadium.”

  “A twenty-two isn’t going to have much stopping power,” Kersey admitted, “but in the right hands it could be a viable weapon.”

  Adams shook his head. “Still not ideal to be sending our troops into a massive confrontation with,” he said gruffly.

  Williams looked around the room, eyes searching. “So, what can be done about this?” he asked.

  “First thing we need to do is collect every spent casing we can come across,” Whitney replied. “There should be hand loaders and raw materials in gun shops and elsewhere. It’s not going to be a huge score, but bullets are going to be scarce. We need to salvage every single one we can.”

  “We should also add distribution warehouses to our list of places to check,” David added. “The internet delivery ones probably won’t have anything, but the big box stores just might.”

  John nodded, pointing his pencil at the speaker. “Should probably check there for food and other goods as well.”

  “Miss Hill,” David said, “if your team can get us a list of potential targets, I’ll get teams sent out there.”

  She nodded, scribbling on her notepad. “I’ll send over what I can.”

  Williams nodded and took a deep breath. “So, what else can we do on the ammunition front?” he asked. “Because while salvaging and scrounging for rounds is good, we’re going to need something bigger.”

  “Mister President, I do have a plan for this,” Stephens piped up, “but I need a little more time to work on it before presenting it, just to make sure it’s viable. Can we schedule a short meeting this evening to discuss it?”

  Williams blinked and shrugged. “Of course, General,” he replied, and then looked down at his list of topics. “So let’s move on to… power. Who has something on this?”

  “Sir, my team has located every power plant serving the greater Seattle area,” Whitney replied. “Every one of them, save one, is a hydro plant. Assuming the person in charge of the stadium was smart enough to protect some power plant workers, it shouldn’t be a big deal to get the lights back on in a reasonable amount of time.”

  “According to the ledger,” David added, “there are a dozen people with power plant experience.”

  Whitney smiled and motioned to the phone. “Well, there you go,” she said.

  Williams nodded. “If everything is hydro except one, what’s the last remaining plant?” he asked.

  “Nuclear,” Whitney replied, and the tension was palpable.

  After a few beats, Williams asked, “Is it in any danger of melting down?”

  John shook his head. “Unlikely,” he replied calmly. “These plants have multiple failsafes that keep them secure in case of a catastrophic event, such as them going unmanned during a zombie apocalypse. That said, these failsafes do have an expiration date, usually within six to eight weeks, and every day past that puts them in danger.”

  “Where is this one located?” Williams asked.

  Whitney tapped her pencil on her notepad. “To the west of Olympia,” she replied. “Reports on the ground say that the area is partially secured, so hopefully within the next few days, we can get people in there to look it over.”

  “Please, just for my own mental wellbeing, make this a priority,” Williams said, holding up both of his palms. “We already have a zombie infestation, the last thing we need is to go all fifties monster movie and have radioactive zombies as well.”

  There was some light chuckling, though more than a few of his comrades couldn’t help but picture the devastation a nuclear meltdown could cause.

  “Yes Mister President,” Stephens replied, “I’ll make that a priority.”

  Adams crossed his arms. “This does bring up another question, though,” he said. “What about the other nuclear plants around the country?”

  “There are a total of fifty-eight plants nationwide,” John replied.

  Williams blinked at him, chewing his lower lip. “What’s the likelihood that we can reach them all and shut them down before they risk going into meltdown?” he asked.

  “Honestly sir, not good,” John admitted. “We might have the manpower on the ground thanks to the caravan groups, but they’re not going to have the experts on hand to shut them down.”

  “Is it possible for the power plant experts to draw them up a plan?” Kersey asked. “Like a guide to shutting them down safely?”

  John shook his head thoughtfully. “I’ll be honest, I have no idea,” he admitted.

  “I’ll have Captain Galvan convene a meeting with them right after we’re done here,” Stephens suggested. “We can address it at this evening’s meeting.”

  Williams pressed his palms together. “Time is of the essence, General,” he said. “Why don’t we take five so that you can go ahead and relay that message to him? That way they’ll have an answer for you by the time you get over there.”

  “As you wish, Mister President,” Stephens replied.

  Williams nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, reconvene in five.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Okay, is everyone back on the line?” Williams asked through the speaker.

  Stephens nodded, swallowing a sip of water. “Yes, Mister President,” he replied. “We’re all here.”

  “Good, let’s continue,” Williams said, and there was a shuffle of papers through the phone. “Now that we’ve covered supplies and basic necessities, I want to hear about our military capabilities. What is the current status of our force?”

  Stephens and Kersey shared a pointed look, and then the General said, “Mister President, I don’t really know how else to put it other than… it’s a complete and total clusterfuck.”

  “By all means General,” Williams said dryly, “don’t feel like you have to sugarcoat it for me.”

  Stephens sighed. “My apologies Mister President,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “But that is a one hundred percent accurate statement. Our forces are a complete mess, and there’s no real easy way to fix it.”

  “While I believe your assessment,” Williams said slowly, “would you humor me and walk me through it?”

  The General took a deep breath, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “Of course,” he replied. “The Texas Virus, or whatever the official name is, targeted everyone with A-type blood. So right off the bat, we lost forty percent of our fighting force. It was indiscriminate, taking out Privates all the way up to Generals, and everything in between. On top of that, we have lost tens of thousands in battle, even before we invaded Seattle.” He shook his head. “Securing the small towns in Kansas and t
he debacle at Kansas City hit us hard. We also had a fair number of defections as well, people who weren’t exactly thrilled with our retreat strategy. Combine all that with the incredibly fast speed this hit us with, and our command structure is a complete mess.” He sighed. “On top of that, there are a fair number of those in command positions who aren’t suited for this type of warfare. They have spent their entire careers facing a completely different kind of enemy, and some just haven’t adjusted to this kind of warfare. As a result, some perished in battle, and others have had their command relieved because their unwillingness to change tactics got people killed.”

  “That doesn’t sound ideal,” Williams commented, sounding tired.

  Stephens shook his head. “It isn’t, but there’s more,” he continued. “At the moment, we don’t have access to personnel records, so we don’t know who was in line for a promotion or not. We’ve also had a fair number of discharged vets joining the ranks again, because if there ever was an all hands on deck moment, it’s this one. If they could document their prior rank, we just went ahead and reinstated them at that rank. Those who couldn’t were relegated to Private status… though of course that did open the door to cosplayers.”

  “I’m sorry, cosplayers?” Williams asked, voice mystified.

  Kersey leaned forward. “Yes, Mister President,” he said. “Are you familiar with comic book conventions? Where people would dress up as their favorite super hero? That’s cosplaying.”

  “Yes Captain, I’m tracking now,” Williams replied flippantly. “So, some people out there took this opportunity to live out their military fantasies. These people showed up in combat fatigues with a rifle, and you let them in?”

  Stephens took a deep breath. “Frankly, we needed guns, and people to use them,” he explained. “There were some we suspected of being cosplayers, so we had people watch them carefully.”

  “Have there been any incidents involving this group?” Williams asked.

  The General tilted his head back and forth. “Some,” he admitted, “but not more than the normal rate of incidents among enlisted men.”