World of Ashes

by J. K. Robinson

  “I can sympathize.” Mary noticed Samuel had fallen asleep and removed his mouth from her breast. She noticed Tammy noticing, but it wasn’t a sexual thing, she was watching the baby and considering whether she wanted her own one day. “Being locked up in that power plant was torture, all those big, sweaty, hairy men.” She teased. “All of them just… bursting with manly manliness.” Tammy narrowed her eyes. “So, yeah. I can sympathize… Did you ever consider having children?”

  Tammy seemed surprised by the question. “Huh? No. Not really. Sabrina had a little girl before all this. But her ex had custody because of the civil unrest, and then her job… We don’t know…”

  “Yeah. There’s a lot of that going around. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. I find Ethan sitting in our rocking chair with Samuel when he thinks I’m sleeping. He takes out his wallet and stars at the picture of his family and his old fiancé. It’s a picture of them at prom, though he assures me she wasn’t his date back then. Apparently he took a girl to prom who left with another girl.” Mary laughed when Tammy professed that it wasn’t her. “He misses them, the mystery still weighs on him I can tell. I guess though, I know what happened to my family… I came to grips with them being dead before the president stopped plugging his Total Safety Package. I know Ethan would like to go into the wild and try to find them, dead or alive. I know he loves me more than just as the woman who had his kid, but I fear what would happen to us if she ever showed up again.” Mary looked at the sky again, and then at her watch. She heard a radio transmission from the office window and stood to look inside. The expression on the face of the boy operating the radio must have been alarming enough because Mary threw open the door and demanded to know what the message was upon threat of his death.

  The operator in training, Allen’s little brother Billy, paled some when he saw Mary explode into the office like a Marine storming a beach, but more so over that the transmission was also regarding his big brother and only living family. “Their plane went down… It’s… its…”

  Mary’s suddenly felt horrible, realizing who he was. He had just as much riding on the safe return of the plane as she did. His parents were gone, no one knew where. Allen was all he had left in the world. Taking the seat next to him they would start a vigil until their loved ones came home. Mary wanted nothing more than to break down in tears herself, but she couldn’t. For the sake of Jimmy and Samuel, for Lee and Keith and anyone else who cared about the men aboard that plane, she would remain strong.

  “Well this is some shit.” Lee grumbled, throwing a spent cartridge off the roof. It hit a Zim in the eye. It didn’t blink and the eye started oozing maroon and green bile.

  “What now?”

  “I have to take a dump.” Lee sighed, “And they’re inside, I can hear them. So…”

  “Sucks for you. Don’t MRE’s still come with toilet paper?”

  Lee narrowed his eyes in the moonlight. “Have you ever used that TP for anything but fire-starter?”

  “Nope. Oh, wait, I cleaned mud off my barrel with it once, so at least we know it’s absorbent.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Ethan laughed despite their dire situation. They had enough food and water for about two days, after that it was a simple matter of the dead either waiting for them to die of exposure, or to make a break for it. The second was more likely given the nature of the Cally brothers, but that wouldn’t happen until or unless Allen woke up… or died.

  Eventually Lee made his way to the far side of the roof, and after some careful positioning managed to dangle his ass over the edge of the roof with a grip on an exhaust pipe. Unbeknownst to him Ethan had a small video camera out and was recording the entire ordeal. Once Lee was fully engrossed in relieving himself Ethan sprang up and leaned over the edge of the roof to film a giant lump of human waste falling and landing squarely on the face of a Zim with reporter’s tags clipped to his safari vest. Because zombies have no conscious thought, and therefore find any part of a live human appealing, the horde attacked the shit-faced Zim and tore it to pieces within minutes just to feast on anything that tasted like human. They repeated the process for each of the lumps Lee gifted them, and it was their laughter that brought Allen out of his stupor. After a quick wipe job with said MRE toilet paper, Lee was right next to Ethan, helping their friend sit up.

  “You gonna be okay, man?” Ethan asked.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Allen held up his hand for them both to stop and let him collect himself. Finally he seemed to choke back his body’s desire to vomit and spoke, “Did you seriously just shit in a zombie’s face?”

  “Yeah, he did. I got pictures. How many fingers am I holding up?” Ethan held up three.

  “I know it’s three, but I’m still seeing double, man.”

  “That’s good I guess.” Ethan unscrewed a canteen of water. Allen gulped it down. “Think you can walk?”

  “Not a chance.” Allen laid back down on the cushion. “The world is spinning hard core, bro.”

  “I’m going back to the plane.” Lee decided abruptly. “We need medevac. Now. It’s been hours. They might think we’re dead.”

  “You can’t be serious. It’s too far from here.”

  “It’s a fifteen minute run, Ethan.” Lee said. Ethan felt disgusted to know the Army’s obsession with the 2 mile run might actually pay off.

  “Lee, you’re fat and old. You haven’t had to run two miles in under sixteen minutes since you were nineteen. There’s two hundred Zims between us and the wreck, and we don’t even know if the radio works. It could be shattered, and you could sprain your ankle or run out of ammo or-” Ethan became aware he sounded like their mother. Don’t tie a car hood to the back of a truck and drive around with your brother on it! Don’t duct tape wings to the neighbor kid and push him off a roof even if there was a bush below for him to fall on! Don’t call your teacher a Communist, especially if it’s true! That sort of thing. They both missed their mother terribly, but this was not the time.

  “Ethan’s right, Cap’m. Someone will see us up here, I have faith.” Allen said softly. He didn’t seem to have a lot of energy.

  “Forgive my lack of faith, Allen.” Lee began shedding clothing until all he wore was his boxers, boots and a bottle of water in one hand and an M9 in the other. “You two go to the other end of the building and start making noise. I’ll run from the East. I can get there in under twenty, make the call and get back before sun-up.”

  “Why don’t you wait until sun-up?” Ethan protested. “We don’t have any evidence these things hunt better or worse at night. You’re just taking the advantage away from yourself.”

  “Ethan, if I don’t make the call Allen could get worse. Texas may never find us, and we could die up here. Who knows if we were actually speaking to an Air Traffic Controller or some asshole with a radio who wanted to rob us.”

  Ethan was about to protest that there was no logical reason not to wait, but he knew his brother was dead set on this plan. Helping Allen to the far end of the building they took out their rifles and started selectively shooting the freshest looking zombies while shouting curses and making noise, or in Ethan’s case the recipe to the perfect omelet. Because, why not? Zombies don’t understand English.

  Just as Lee was about to jump the ten feet to the grass below after the zombies on the east end had thinned to about one every fifteen feet or so they heard the unmistakable pop pop pop of the rotor blades of the Angel of Vietnam, the Belle UH1 “Huey.” A spotlight shown down on the rooftop, stopping Lee in his boxers and boots right at the edge. Ethan reached for his camera and snapped a shot of his brother’s stunned face. It was too perfect, it had to go in the scrapbook forever.

  Back at Little Rock AFB the Airmen and Soldiers guarding the base got a good laugh at seeing Lee traipse around the tarmac in his underwear, but he didn’t give a damn so long as Allen got to the aid station.

  The airbase’s commanding officer wasn’t avai
lable for a rather standard rescue, but the XO was. At first Ethan didn’t recognize him, the man had grown a mustache and gained some weight. Instead it was the voice, distinctive in its New York accent that made Ethan’s blood run cold with fear, and then instantly boil as he remembered he still had a gun. With Allen safely in the hands of trained doctors the silent tension between Ethan and his former First Sergeant, the one he’d been in Iraq with, became so thick it might take the Jaws of Life to cut it. Eventually the man, now a Major, managed to get a word in with Ethan.

  “I’m honestly glad to see you’re still alive, Mr. Cally.” Ethan didn’t say anything. He couldn’t believe how good, and how bad his luck was. “Look at you. A sheriff.”

  The fact that they had rescued him and were giving Allen lifesaving medical support was quickly being undermined by Ethan’s desire to stab the man in front of him with an icepick. Eventually Ethan had enough of the silence and stood. “Lee, meet First Sergeant Harmon.”

  “That’s Major Harmon.” He said as Ethan strolled out of the office, as if the introduction had explained all that needed explaining.

  “Major. I’m his brother, former Lieutenant Lee Cally.” He didn’t offer a handshake. Anyone who was involved with Ethan’s time in the Army wasn’t someone Lee felt the need to be friends with.

  Harmon nodded, pursing his lips. “I see your brother has spoken of me before.”

  “Only in the negative, I assure you.” Lee looked around the second story office, through the windows and out at the airfield. He stood and paced to the largest window, hands behind his back as if standing at ease. “I’m not going to stand here and try to repair the bad blood you and my brother have garnered. As a US Soldier I would hope you’d simply do your job and help us get back to our town.”

  “I don’t remember flight coordinator being part of my job description.” Harmon leaned back in his chair, his tone collected and cool in only the disconnected, self assured way officers could pretend to care. He’d bought into the idea of being the gentry lock stock and barrel. “Frankly, I’m tempted to toss your brother out the gate. He’s a drunk, a druggie, a burnout. A-”

  There was a clicking sound and Harmon’s eyes lit up. He often fancied himself a great chess and poker player. However, his gamble didn’t pay off this time. The M9 in Lee’s hand leveled at the major’s chest. His breathing was slow and steady, the pistol didn’t shake, the safety was off.

  “I don’t have time to get in a pissing contest over my brother’s questionable acts during his tour, but since then he’s been drafted back by your fucking Army, abandoned by said fucking Army, and like myself found his way home and has since done everything in his power to serve and protect as many of his countrymen as he can. Sometimes men are self-destructive if they don’t have someone else to be responsible for, that I think was my brother’s downfall. That, however, has certainly changed. If you have issues with him, I suggest you put on gloves and go behind the hangar and have a nice Wall to Wall Counseling session.” Lee holstered the gun. “I’ll be in the TMC checking on my brother’s Deputy. We’ll expect to be on the first flight headed North. If you don’t want to play ball with me, fine. I’ll steal one of your fucking planes.” Without another word Lee went after his brother. Ethan wasn’t hard to find, he was sitting next to Allen, his riot baton on his lap to ward off those he didn’t want to see.

  “You’re right. That dude was a prick.”

  “He’s lucky I don’t kill him. I swore I’d kill anyone involved if I ever saw them again… Though I could think of worthier men to expend my lead upon. Harmon’s a bastard… but he’s not… He’s not the worst. Just a careerist, not a sociopath.” It was hard for Ethan to admit.

  “That was his reaction to seeing you too, more or less.”

  “Fuck him.” Ethan sighed and looked over Allen. “Doc says he took a nasty hit to the head and has a fractured rib, but that he’ll be fine after a lot of rest.”

  “Good. I’d assume we won’t be here for long.” Lee folded his arms, “I’m going to go look into reporting this incident to the proper authorities. I think they’ll want to know Tupelo has been overrun by a bunch of ghetto rats.”

  “Yeah. That was pretty fucked.” Ethan crossed his legs, but decided his knees didn’t like the new position and so went back to sitting normally. “What if a gang blitzed Sullivan? How much damage do you think they could do?”

  “They couldn’t. The guys at the power plant pretty much wiped out every gang except those guys in St. Clair, but I don’t think that bunch has the capacity to be a threat either, hell, they couldn’t even push two isolated Guardsmen out of a one story building.” Lee shrugged. “Maybe we can bribe them to leave. Who knows. I just don’t want a war on my own doorstep.”

  “Have you talked to the skinny one, Tammy?” Ethan shook his head, “Now that is one mean bitch. I think she could have held that armory all by herself. She might be hotter if she looked a little more like… you know, a girl and not a skinny boy. Maybe if her boobs ever filled out she would look like that chick from Lacuna Coil.” Ethan was trying to be funny, his mechanism for dealing with this shit.

  “Christina Scabia? Yeah. She was smokin’ hawt. I wonder if she’s still alice. I wonder who all is still alive, ya know?” Lee looked down at the floor. “What celebrities, what political names might have survived… Silly to think of these things.”

  “Not really. I often imagine what’s become of my favorite singers. I’d hate to think three albums was all I’d ever get of Evanescence.” Ethan cracked his neck. It felt good. He wished he could remember where he put his Mp3 player.

  Lee left a little later and found his way to the radio room, a small office area connected to the Tactical Operation Center. It wasn’t very busy. Apparently Harmon had stopped by and briefed a specialist on what Lee was going to ask for. She had already queued up a call to Longview, Texas should Lee show up. She’d also booked a civilian flight for the next day for Lee and Ethan to be transported to Sullivan, and a flight for Allen a week later if his treatment required more bed rest.

  “General Vierling is on the line, Sir.” She said, smiling at Lee. He got the impression she was already extremely tired of the breeding stock she was stationed with here, her eyes undressing him at every turn. “He seems very anxious to speak to you.” Lee gave it a moment’s thought and decided he might oblige her if there was time.

  “This is Captain Cally, go ahead.”

  The voice that responded was blessedly familiar. “Captain. Good to hear from you. After we received the Broken Arrow signal from Tupelo we tried to track your plane. Is everyone okay?”

  Lee sighed, “Negative, Sir. There were two casualties from our flight. The pilot is KIA and our deputy is injured but alive and expected to recover, over.”

  There was a brief pause. “Do you know if any other planes made it off the tarmac? How many zombies were there?”

  Lee seemed surprised Vierling would ask that. He didn’t even remember seeing any other planes there, just zombies, a few locals, and a shit load of MS13. “I can’t say for sure the number of Infected, Sir. I don’t recall any other aircraft in the area, break. It wasn’t the infected who took the plane down. Over.”

  “Copy that, Captain. Can you tell me what happened? This is a secure line.” If General Vierling said it was secure, then it was secure.

  “Yes, sir. The refueling airfield was attacked by a gang, Sir, not zombies. I distinctly remember seeing the markings Mike Sierra One Three, that’s MS13, spray painted on the side of a stolen armored Humvee. It was the machine gun in that truck that damaged the plane and killed our pilot. We weren’t able to rescue any of the airfield personnel, break.” Lee paused for a moment, the image of the girl exploding on his brother and Allen’s immediate breakdown played over and over behind his eyelids, seared into his mind like a brand. “I feel it is extremely likely they have either killed or taken hostage all personnel.”

  “Copy that, Captain. Is Colonel McCann nearby?”


  Lee turned and found himself face to face with the base’s commanding officer. Colonel McCann was a short, stocky woman with a warm smile that seemed out of place in the world around her. She already had a headset on.

  “Colonel McCann Actual, Sir. Go ahead.” She said, her tone as chipper as her smile. Lee was wondering if any of the women here had seen a man other than those they’d been forced to live with since the AFB was isolated. This woman was giving his the look as well. The notion of having both women at once crossed his mind, but Lee quickly dashed that. There was no way the Colonel was gonna have a threesome with a captain and an E4, even if the E4 was a read head.

  “I need a recon of Tupelo Airfield, Colonel. I need to know if the airfield is still active, or if it’s a Red Zone. Use best equipment possible. Satellites are available if weather holds.” General Vierling ordered.

  “Copy Longview Actual.” Colonel McCann said, “Little Rock Actual Out.” She set the headset down and reached out to shake Lee’s hand. “We’re glad you made it, Captain Cally, is it?”

  Lee shook her hand. It wasn’t terribly soft, something he hadn’t expected from a career airman. “Yes, Ma’am. I’m the company commander of my town’s military forces.”

  “Ah.” She smiled, “Well, if there’s anything we need to know, now is the time. The weather is holding bright and sunny across most of the South.” McCann pointed to a screen that held a satellite image of the weather over the Continental United States. The clouds were gray, still full of ash, but the weather patterns looked more hopeful than they had only a year ago. From the far West corner of Oklahoma to the Northern most part of Florida was clear blue skies, a rarity in this day and age.

  “They have a lot of military equipment. I can’t say for sure what all they do have, but they are fielding light machine guns. It was an M249 that brought us down.” Lee omitted the part about the murdered girl. What good would having that on her conscience do the Colonel? “I can also report we cost them a Ferrari and a Humvee.”