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

by Slaton, Derek

  “Still…” the President said, drawing out the word. “I would like you to keep an eye on it if you wouldn’t mind. On that point, Miss Hill, do we have access to the military database?”

  “I believe we do, Mister President,” Whitney replied.

  “I know that we have a lot on our plates, with some issues like food and preventing a nuclear meltdown taking precedent,” Williams said, and paused to wait for everyone’s light chuckling. “However, we need to do a full census of the military. Find out who we have, cross check it with the military database, and get the structure of our military back in order.”

  Kersey nodded, leaning forward. “If I might add to that,” he cut in, “I think we should do a census of everyone, civilians included. We not only need to know who’s here, but we need to know what they can do. We’re not just setting up a military stronghold, we are actively rebuilding society. As a result, we’re going to need everything a society has. From emergency services all the way down to cooks. To be blunt, grunts are a dime a dozen, but someone who knows how to properly prepare a steak is a rarity and should be treated like royalty.”

  “Now we just need to get some cattle farmers to raise us some animals,” Adams added.

  Stephens laughed. “And a butcher to carve it up properly,” he said.

  “And a truck driver to get it from point A to point B,” Whitney added, chuckling.

  “And a mechanic to make sure the truck works properly,” John added through his own laughter.

  David shook his head with a grin. “And an AC repair man to make sure the truck is properly cooled.”

  The laughter died out, the cold reality of the situation sinking in. The structures of civilization had survived the assault, but the inner workings of society had crumbled to death and gore, and nothing was going to be as easy as one step. Just having a steak contained so many steps.

  “General Stephens,” Williams said finally, clearing his throat, “it would appear as though you have one hell of a massive undertaking on your hands. I would suggest appointing someone, civilian or military, to head up this portion of the operation.”

  “Might I suggest Captain Galvan?” John piped up. “By all accounts, he worked very well with the civilian administrator of the Seattle stadium, so this would just be an expansion of his duties from the last month.”

  Stephens and Kersey both nodded emphatically at each other.

  “I have absolutely no objection to that whatsoever,” the General agreed. “I can speak to him about the job after we wrap up here.”

  “If you and John feel like he’s up to the job, consider it his,” Williams confirmed.

  Stephens nodded. “I’ll give you an update this evening.”

  “Thank you, General,” Williams replied. “Before we move on to the next topic, I have a question for Captain Kersey.”

  Kersey’s brow furrowed. “Yes, Mister President?” he asked.

  “Captain, in light of your actions in Spokane and Seattle,” Williams began, “and the fact that our command structure has been decimated and is in desperate need of people experienced in this kind of warfare, how would you feel about being a General?”

  The room fell silent, and Kersey stared at Stephens, blinking rapidly and then glancing to Bretz, who grinned widely.

  Kersey opened his mouth and then closed it again, at a loss for words. He finally managed to find his voice, stammering, “Wow, Mister President…” He let out a deep whoosh of breath. “That is the most humbling offer that has ever been extended my way.”

  “Well son, you have a mind for this kind of warfare,” Williams explained, “and we need people like you in decision-making positions. Now I fully realize this would probably set a record for fastest promotion from Sergeant to General, but I think we can all agree these aren’t ordinary times.”

  Kersey stared down into his lap for a moment, and then looked to Stephens, who smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He licked his lips and then cleared his throat.

  “First off,” Kersey began hoarsely, “thank you for thinking so highly of me, sir. I joined the military because I wanted to make a difference for the people of this nation. With what you just said, I feel like my decision was justified. That said, I would love to.” He took a deep breath. “However, for the moment, I must decline.”

  Bretz let out a small noise of surprise, and Stephens’s eyes widened.

  “May I ask why, Captain?” Williams asked, clearly confused.

  Kersey swallowed hard. “Well, sir, for as long as I can remember, every time General Stephens here says he’s working on a plan, I go ahead and pencil myself in for some new PTSD.”

  Everyone laughed, on both sides of the call, and he shook his head, smiling to himself.

  “In all seriousness though,” he continued, sobering, “I feel like I can do more good in the field than in a war room, especially now that we have Seattle secured.”

  “Captain, it takes one hell of a man to turn down a promotion like this, and especially turn it down in favor of going back out into harm’s way,” Williams commended. “Not only do you have my utmost respect, you also have my promise that as long as I’m in charge of this country, my offer stands.”

  Kersey nodded firmly. “Thank you, Mister President,” he said sincerely. “And depending on what General Stephens runs by me after the meeting, I may have a different answer for you this evening.”

  Williams burst into laughter, backed up by the others.

  “Well, getting back on track,” he finally said, “now that we have this foothold, how do we bring new people into the fold? How do we let them know we’re here?”

  “Traditional media isn’t going to work,” Whitney pointed out, “because even if we somehow got them up and running, nobody is going to be tuning in.”

  “We can certainly let our caravan teams know,” John cut in, “and they can spread it directly.”

  “I like that idea…” Whitney mused. “But it’s not exactly feasible to expect survivors in Georgia or Florida to make a cross-country journey to a safe zone.”

  “I don’t know,” John replied, “we run out of coffee in here, and I’ll consider it.”

  “I think we all would,” she agreed with a chuckle.

  Kersey cocked his head. “What if we made it so people don't have to make it all the way here on their own?” he asked. “I mean, we control the rail lines from here to North Platte, Nebraska, don’t we? It wouldn’t take many men to set up a secure area for people to rest until the train came back.”

  Stephens nodded, pointing at him. “The depot at North Platte still had plenty of fuel,” he said. “We could keep a single line running back and forth for months.”

  “I like that idea,” Williams said. “Let’s start game planning it. Figure out what it would take to make it happen. It’s not a huge priority, but I would like it on the list.”

  Stephens scribbled on his scrap paper. “Consider it done, sir,” he said.

  “But come on people,” Williams declared, “let’s think outside the box, here. How else can we spread the word about Seattle?”

  David stood up from his seat and stood next to the table, leaning towards the phone. “I have an idea, sir,” he said. “It’s not the most efficient, but it pays dividends in the long run.”

  “All right, let’s hear it,” the President replied.

  “Well, a lot of survivalists use ham radio to chat with one another, and there’s a good chance that some of the survivor communities have access to one as well,” David explained. “It’s going to be tedious, but we can send out messages to every frequency, and continue trying until we reach people. If we manage to find a few, then they can spread it to the others they know. We can also set up a dedicated frequency where people can tune in to get up to date information. This isn’t going to yield instant results, but long term, it should work.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Williams replied. “How do you propose we go about implementing this?”

/>   David shrugged. “First off, we need to locate ham radios,” he said.

  “Talk with Captain Galvan in the stadium,” Whitney piped up. “I’m pretty certain they have a setup already.”

  He smiled. “Thank you, I’ll do that,” he said.

  There was a moment of silence, and then David took his seat again.

  “Okay,” Williams finally spoke up, “doesn’t seem like there are any other ideas, but I think we have enough to get started on. I believe everybody has their immediate tasks, but I want to take a moment to brainstorm about the next phase of rebuilding society and what we might need to focus on. Never know when you might have a brilliant idea, so might as well get ourselves thinking on it. So how wants to start us out?”

  “I think once we get through the next few months and get ourselves on solid footing,” John began, “we’re going to have to think about bringing back in a normal economy. Having an emergency community-based approach to things is fine for a while, but it won’t take long for people to want to be rewarded for going above and beyond what’s asked of them. So we need to be thinking of how to bring in some form of currency.”

  “Why wouldn’t the dollar work?” the President asked. “It’s served us well for a couple of centuries, now.”

  “Because there is way too much of it out there, just ripe for the picking,” John explained. “The last thing we want is to have adventurous types leaving the safe zone to rob a bank in Portland and flood our economy with bills. We need to create something from scratch so that we can control it to make sure things don’t go haywire.”

  Williams grunted softly. “That’s an understandable concern,” he mused. “As much as it would pain me to be the President that presided over the demise of the dollar, we have to do what’s best for the community. So what else?”

  “I think when we get the results of the census,” Whitney cut in, “if there are people in the military with special skills, they need to be allowed to leave service to pursue that.”

  “I was under the impression we were already going to reassign vital personnel to civilian roles,” Adams replied gruffly.

  “For stuff like farming and doctors, absolutely,” Whitney explained. “I’m talking about secondary things, like carpentry or mechanics. Things that aren’t going to make or break the community, but certainly things that will increase the livability of it. We should also help those who want to set up storefronts so that we can really get a thriving economy going again. The last thing we want is to force people into jobs they hate and control every aspect of it. That’s only going to last for so long, and having that would potentially alienate the civilians who come here. We need this place to feel like a home, not a military-occupied war zone.”

  “Excellent points, Miss Hill,” Williams commended. “Anybody else?”

  Kersey cleared his throat. “We need to put someone in charge of entertainment,” he suggested.

  Adams barked a laugh, and then quickly cut himself off when he realized nobody else joined in. “Apologies, I thought that was a joke,” he admitted.

  “I’m very serious about this, General,” the Captain insisted. “We’re going to need things to keep everyone’s mind off of the massive pile of work that needs to be done, as well as the danger that is going to be at our doorsteps for years to come. We’re going to need a team of curators to bring in every bit of media that we can find while going through businesses and homes. CDs, movies, video games, books, board games, anything and everything that can be entertaining. On top of that, we should also think about what Captain Galvan did in the stadium, instituting community classes like Yoga and art projects. Not only does it keep people occupied, but it brings them closer together.”

  “Another good point, future General Kersey,” Williams said.

  The Captain rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself as Bretz patted him on the shoulder teasingly.

  “I think we have more than enough to go on for the time being,” Williams declared. “Let’s break and reconvene at zero-seven hundred Seattle time. Does that work for everyone?”

  There was a murmuring of the affirmative from both sides of the call.

  “Fantastic,” the President said. “Let’s start working on the most pressing issues, and General Stephens, I’ll look forward to hearing your plan for our ammunition problem.”

  Stephens nodded sharply. “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you, sir.”

  The line went dead, and the quartet sat in silence for a moment.

  Finally, Kersey turned in his seat and cocked his head, smirking at Stephens. “Okay, you want to clue me in to what I’m going to be doing instead of sitting in a cushy office like you?”

  The General barked a laugh, and leaned back in his chair, a playful grin on his face. “Tell me Kersey, have you ever been to Idaho?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Idaho?” Kersey stammered, shaking his head, eyes wide. “What in the almighty hell is in Idaho that can’t be found here?”

  Stephens held out his hand. “Bretz, can you hand me that magazine on the shelf next to you, there?” he asked.

  The Corporal looked behind him and found a magazine on the shelf with a buxom blonde on the cover, holding a machine gun way too large for her body. He handed it over, and Stephens tossed it on the table.

  Kersey raised an eyebrow. “I mean, if she’s there I'll take the next flight out,” he joked.

  “You and me both, soldier,” Stephens agreed. “But flip to page forty-seven.”

  The Captain opened the magazine, licking his thumb and flipping through the pages. He reached the right one and began to read out loud. “How Boise, Idaho, became one of the biggest gun manufacturing towns in the world.” He dropped the book, staring at the General with wide eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Absolutely!” Stephens exclaimed excitedly. “They have over a dozen major manufacturers there, all set up and ready to roll. Machines, as well as raw material. Now, at some point we’ll have to replenish the raw materials, but having the manufacturing capability would go a long way towards sustaining our military.”

  Kersey couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. “So? What do you want me to do?” he asked, spreading his arms.

  Before Stephens could answer, Bretz stood up and stepped next to his Captain. “What do you want us to do?” he corrected.

  Kersey nodded at him with a smile.

  “I need you to assemble a team and parachute into Boise,” Stephens continued. “Figure out what the situation on the ground is, make contact with the locals if there are any, and secure the factories.”

  The Captain laughed. “Oh, is that all?” he asked, sarcasm evident in his tone. “How many are you sending me in with? Four hundred? Five hundred?”

  “Ten,” Stephens replied, deadpan. “Including you.”

  Kersey rubbed his forehead, a horror laugh escaping his throat. “You want ten of us to drop in a secure a dozen sites?”

  “Why only ten of us?” Bretz asked in disbelief.

  Stephens shook his head. “Because that’s all the fuel we can spare for the airplane,” he explained. “So unless someone wants to hang onto the wing—”

  “Kowalski,” Kersey and Bretz blurted at the same time, and the General chuckled.

  “Please don’t put Kowalski on the wing,” he pleaded, pressing his palms together. “Don’t dare him to do it either, because I know he will.”

  “Okay…” Bretz said petulantly, and Kersey feigned a pout.

  When they were done with their little show, Kersey asked, “So, when can we expect reinforcements?”

  “Realistically?” Stephens took a deep breath. “Ten to fifteen days.”

  Bretz crossed his arms. “Oh, is that all?”

  “They’re going to have to come via surface roads,” Stephens replied. “And there’s not exactly a direct route they’ll be able to take. Plus, and this may sound harsh, if the plants have been gutted, burned down, or there are other complications, we need to know that so we
don’t waste our extremely limited resources on this excursion.”

  Kersey nodded, leaning back in his chair. “That makes sense,” he admitted.

  “So, I guess if the situation on the ground looks bad,” Bretz drawled, “we’ll just hitchhike back?”

  The Captain smirked. “Or, we could vacation Boise,” he suggested playfully. “I hear it’s nice in about six months after the winter goes away.”

  “Don’t worry,” Stephens said, putting up his hands, “I’ll have a plan in place for extraction if things go south.”

  Kersey smacked his knees, letting out a deep breath. “Well, already regretting not taking your job, General,” he declared, and they shared a laugh as he got to his feet. “But seeing as how this is our mission now, when do we leave?”

  “Twenty-four hours,” Stephens replied. “I know you’ve been sleeping like shit this week, so we’re going to set your tea up with rooms at the hotel just across from the stadium so you can get rested.”

  Kersey nodded. “All right, I’ll go assemble my team,” he replied.

  The General raised an eyebrow. “You know, you can just tell me who you want and I’ll get them here, right?” he asked.

  “We’re about to embark on yet another suicide mission,” the Captain explained. “I feel like it’s my duty to inform my lucky participants in person.”

  Stephens nodded in appreciation. “I understand,” he said. “In the meantime, I’ll make sure you have everything you could possibly need for your load out.”

  “Appreciate that, General,” Kersey said, and headed for the door. Before he left, he turned to David, who’d stepped aside with his stack of papers. “David, it’s been a genuine pleasure working with you these last few weeks,” he said, extending his hand.

  The communications expert shook and smiled. “Likewise, Captain,” he replied. “It has been awe-inspiring to watch you work.”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Kersey replied, chuckling. “I will say, however, that I admire the fact that you are sticking on a heading up the community outreach program, among other things.”