These Dead Lands (Book 2): Desolation

by Knight, Stephen

  “Papa Zero Three this is War Eagle. Over.”

  “War Eagle, let War Eagle Actual know that we are going to be here for fifteen minutes. Also pass on to Eagle One Actual, so if he or Diamond want to get out and stretch their legs or use the bathroom make sure their detail is with them at all times. How copy? Over.”

  Eagle One was the call sign assigned to Henry Cornell, the president pro tempore of the United States. In absence of the elected president or the senior members of his cabinet and Congress—of which there were exactly none—Cornell was effectively President of the United States of America until further notice. Diamond was the code name assigned to Melissa Cornell, the presumptive First Lady. Since they had no Secret Service, Slater had handpicked a security team for Eagle One, just like every president before him was assigned. Hastings had no issues with that. Given the circumstances, it was the best anyone could do, and if anyone was able to accomplish that particular mission, it was Slater.

  When Slater heard the response, he snapped his fingers to get Hastings’s attention. “Hey, Captain. Listen, Eagle One wants you and me for a face-to-face. What do you want me to tell him?”

  Hastings frowned at the news. “Why does he want to meet us?”

  “Don’t know. But the request came with an ‘if you can.’ Seems like he’s aware we might have other shit to do right now, know what I mean?”

  Hastings considered that for a moment. Henry Cornell was a former lightfighter and had served with Hastings’s unit, the Tenth Mountain Division. So he knew what went on in a military zone of operations. That he was requesting a meeting with him and Slater was nevertheless compelling.

  “Tell Eagle we’ll be over as soon as the convoy has things squared away, and that the meet and greet needs to be blessed by War Eagle,” he told Slater.

  “Sir, War Eagle’s RTO is the one who passed the request.”

  “Okay—I guess that answers that. Go ahead and relay that we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  “Roger that.”

  It took a few minutes for the column to fall out and get organized in the parking lots, and once that was completed Hastings and Slater gathered up their gear and headed towards the vehicles containing the command group. As they approached, Hastings saw the security team had already formed a small inner perimeter with their vehicles in protective positions around the command group’s MRAPs. Individual team members were on the ground outside the vehicles, pulling security. Hastings figured this would probably be the first time that a sitting President of the United States had been without members of the Secret Service protecting him. Instead, now it was an all-military detail doing the job.

  Yeah, shit sure has changed.

  Slater must’ve caught Hastings’s vibe. “Just think, sir. You can now say you were in charge of the detail protecting the President of the United States. That should make for a good bullet on your OER, don’t ya think?”

  Hastings glanced over at Slater and saw the smirk on the Special Forces sergeant’s face. “You’re damn Skippy. But I don’t think there are many people from my year group still alive, so I think my promotion chances are already looking good. Hell, I’ll bet if I put in a good word for you I could get you the Sergeant Major of the Army position. I’m pretty sure it’s vacant right now.”

  Slater grunted. “Don’t joke about shit like that. Someone might hear you and think it’s a good idea, and that’s the last thing I need.”

  The two men chuckled as they continued to the president’s vehicle. They walked around to the vehicle’s rear where they found the MRAP’s ramp had been lowered to the ground. Soldiers were posted on each side of the ramp. At the bottom of the stairs, President Henry Cornell and the First Lady stood on the parking lot pavement, stretching and looking around. Slater drifted away from Hastings, his eyes focused on the troops providing personal protection. He knew the Special Forces NCO had conducted some shake and bake training with regards to the protective detail, as he was pretty much the best qualified individual to do so. To Hastings, it appeared the detail was on it. As he watched, more soldiers joined the detail and took up additional positions. The formation was pretty much textbook, but Hastings was confident that no reekers would be getting anywhere near POTUS and the First Lady.

  “Captain Hastings, Master Sergeant Slater … good to see you,” Cornell said. He was a tall, broad-shouldered black man with graying hair who wore wire-rimmed glasses perched across a wide nose. His bearing was unmistakably military; he had served in the Army and attained the rank of brigadier general before retiring and entering the political arena. When Hastings had first met him, Cornell had worn a rumpled but otherwise well-preserved suit. Now he was dressed in more casual attire; jeans, boots, and a lightweight long-sleeve shirt. His wife, Melissa, wore a similar outfit. The zombie apocalypse wasn’t a black-tie affair, after all.

  “Good to see you too, sir,” Hastings replied.

  “We appreciate the bathroom break and a chance to stretch. How are we progressing on the trip?”

  “We’re making decent time, and aside from the few reekers back in town, we haven’t had any major issues, sir.” Hastings looked up as another group of men walked up. He recognized Colonel Victor, the short O-6 in charge of the remnants of the 101st Airborne Division units that made up the majority of the active duty component that had escaped the collapse of Fort Indiantown Gap only a day or so ago. With him was a quite tall, burly black man with a thin mustache and a bald head—Command Sergeant Major Oratious Parker, Victor’s senior noncommissioned officer. Also in attendance was Lieutenant Colonel Efstratios Gavas, commander of the cavalry squadron that had made its way to the Gap. Gavas looked every bit the cavalryman, with a gruff exterior and sharp eyes.

  Hastings saluted Victor. “Colonel.”

  Victor returned the gesture immediately. “Hastings. Mr. President, First Lady. How’s everyone holding up?”

  “Doing just fine, Dave. Was just getting around to asking young Hastings here how much longer it’ll be before we get to the Raven Rock facility?”

  “About an hour and half if we aren’t held up, sir. With Hastings keeping an eye out during our advance, we opted to go around Gettysburg and stick to the back roads so we could keep our distance from the built-up areas and large towns. Luckily the bypass route we’re on moves us closer to Raven Rock. We should come out almost on top of it.”

  Cornell looked back to Victor. “Well, this is all good to hear. The sooner we can get to Raven Rock and make contact, the better.”

  “Yes, sir, I think we all agree with that,” Victor said.

  “Mr. President? I’m sorry, sir,” Hastings said when Cornell turned toward him. “Just a question. Are we certain we’ll be able to gain access to the facility?”

  “I hear your concern, Captain, and I share it. I have the authentication protocols needed to verify myself and gain entry. I don’t see any problem with that at the moment, but if the infection’s found its way in to the facility before it went into lockdown? Well, that could change things a bit.”

  “Do we know for sure that they’ll cancel the lockdown to allow entry?”

  “That’s a good question, and I don’t have a definitive answer for you. I wish I did, but that’s the truth of the matter.”

  Hastings nodded. “Understood, Mr. President. I appreciate your candor.”

  “The least I can do is spare everyone the politically correct bullshit and dick dancing and give you men the straight information you need as commanders and soldiers to accomplish your mission,” Cornell said, looking from Hastings to the rest of the officers gathered around him.

  Melissa Cornell laughed a bit. “Did you actually say ‘dick dancing,’ Henry?” If she was scandalized by the remark, it didn’t show. Hastings studied her for a quick moment. Melissa Cornell was a handsome woman, tall and still on the slender side despite being in her fifties. She was the kind of woman who didn’t need to wear makeup, but he was certain that if the conditions warranted something more
dramatic, she could build to suit.

  Cornell laughed and spread his hands. “Hey, look who we’re with! I have to keep these guys convinced that I’m not the smart guy, you know.”

  “I don’t think they’re very worried about you outsmarting them,” Melissa said, and her smile broadened.

  “Oh, this sounds like family business now,” Victor said with a laugh as he and the rest of the soldiers grinned.

  The president shrugged then looked over at Slater. He gave the soldier a sly smile. “You don’t want to get in on this, snake eater?”

  Slater held up his hands. “I’m only a Special Forces soldier, sir—not a family mediation specialist.”

  The assemblage laughed again, and Cornell and his wife laughed the loudest of all. “All right, boys. I know who I can depend on now when things get really tough. But Sergeant, I understand you were able to do some grocery shopping earlier today during one of our stops. Correct?”

  Slater and Hastings exchanged a micro glance with each other. Slater cleared his throat quickly. “Well. I see news travels fast. Yes, Mr. President, we were able obtain some resources that will assist with feeding everyone beyond the three MREs a day we planned for.”

  “It’s my job to stay apprised of these things, Sergeant,” the president said with a sly smile. “I think it was a wise choice and quick thinking to act on the opportunity as you did. I do enjoy a good steak, and I am sure the troops will appreciate the fresh meat. Good job.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “In the future, though, you should ask me about the cow. Just so we’re straight.”

  Slater slowly smiled. “How is the cow, sir?”

  Melissa rolled her eyes. “Oh please, God … not this.”

  Cornell’s smile brightened. “Sergeant, she walks, she talks, she’s full of chalk, the lacteal fluid extracted from the female of the bovine species is highly prolific to the nth degree.”

  Victor snorted. “West Point plebe at one point, sir?” Victor said.

  “You know it, Colonel.”

  “This is just what he says about me behind my back, Colonel,” Melissa said.

  Hastings and the rest of the men laughed—even the apparently ever-taciturn Lieutenant Colonel Gavas let out a snort. The First Lady could certainly hold her own.

  Cornell turned back to Slater. “When we have a moment, Master Sergeant Slater, I’d like you to brief me on this operation, I have been told that it was quite interesting. I’m especially interested in hearing about this COW Team Six that conducted the operation.”

  “I’ll tell you all about it sometime soon, sir. But for now, maybe you and First Lady should return to the MRAP?” Slater gestured to the slab-sided vehicle behind them. “We’re still not safe out here.”

  “Slater’s right on that, sir,” Victor added, the smile disappearing from his face. “I realize an MRAP isn’t the most luxurious thing, but we do need to keep the both of you safe.”

  Cornell looked at the troops gathered around him. “I know, Colonel. I’m certain that having me out here makes you and your soldiers a little fidgety. Just needed some air.”

  “We understand, sir.” Victor turned and nodded to Melissa. “Ma’am.”

  She sighed heavily. “Well. If we’re going to do it, let’s get it done. Do we have to close the door right away, though?”

  “We still have a few minutes left before we gear up and step off. Of course we can leave the ramp down until we’re ready to leave.” As he said this, Victor made eye contact with several members of the president’s protection detail. The senior man, a sergeant first class with a well lived-in face, nodded back. Don’t worry, sir, we have this locked up.

  The president allowed the First Lady to precede him into the vehicle before he trudged up its small ramp. There was an obvious reluctance to his movements, but he was leader of whatever remained of the United States now. Even such small things as going out for a quiet walk with his wife were freedoms he would have to part with. Hastings watched as the pair sat down across from each other in the MRAP.

  “Captain, you good to continue on point?” Victor asked Hastings.

  “Yes, sir. No problems with that.”

  “You sure? You’ve been running hard for days. If you need to come off the line for a bit, now might be the perfect time.”

  “I can move a team forward if you and your people need a break, Hastings,” Gavas added.

  “I think we’re good for now, sirs,” Hastings said. “Seriously.”

  Victor nodded. “Okay, then. Let us know if that changes. Once we get the president secured at Raven Rock, I was thinking about chopping you and Slater over to Colonel Gavas and the cav team. They could use you, especially over the next leg of the advance to Bragg.”

  “Of course, sir. It’d be my pleasure, sir,” Hastings said, nodding to Gavas.

  Gavas smiled suddenly, something Hastings had thought was a scientific impossibility. “You do it well, Captain. The pleasure’s mine.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.”

  “All right, guys. Enough of the mutual admiration society. Let’s start getting back to our rides.” Victor checked his watch. “We’ve got about six minutes to kick off.”

  There were murmurs of assent as the group broke up. Victor, Gavas, and Parker marched back to their vehicles, which were parked in a file formation ahead and behind the MRAP carrying the president and First Lady. Hastings and Slater walked toward the parking lot after Slater took a moment to have a terse discussion with the senior members of the protection detail. Hastings hadn’t seen anyone do anything amiss, but apparently that wasn’t good enough for Slater. The Green Beret kept his voice low as he issued his parting guidance, and Hastings saw several heads nod. Orders received.

  “Well, Slater, it looks like you’re in luck,” Hastings said when the soldier formed up on him. “I’m positive you’re gonna get that Sergeant Major of the Army position now.”

  “Oh fuck no, sir. Don’t you start with that shit. If I go down, I’m taking your sorry ass with me. You know what they say—misery loves company. Long time.” He jerked his chin toward the big log cabin building. “Mind if we check that out real quick?”

  “Sure, let’s do it.”

  They walked up onto the porch of the cabin and peered through the windows. The interior of the building was in disarray; the renovations that had been underway had stopped at some point, and a thick layer of dust covered all the construction supplies and tools inside.

  “You know, Phil … we’re gonna be in for a long haul if we run into a dead end at Site R,” Slater said as he looked through one window. “The route south from there is pretty limited just using the back roads, and the highways are log jams. It could take a mighty long time to get where we’re going.”

  “I know. We’ve got a lot riding on this one, but the president’s confident that they’ll unbutton for him. Presuming we can make contact.”

  “I sure as hell hope he’s right, because it’s gonna be a long day if he isn’t.” Slater checked his watch. “Okay, with your permission I’m going to make the rounds to the other vehicles and check on the guys. I’ll meet you back at the truck in five mikes. Cool?”

  “Do it up, Sergeant.”

  “Sure you can walk back to the truck by yourself? Need a chaperone?” Slater asked with a smile.

  “Now you’re just being mean,” Hastings said.

  Slater laughed then turned and headed toward the vehicles. Hastings glanced back into the cabin’s interior and wondered if Site R looked pretty much the same inside, or worse, if it was crawling with reekers. One thing was for sure, they needed to get inside and get the government up and running and the new president confirmed.

  ###

  The train lumbered down the tracks toward the next switching station, slowing as it drew near. The landscape was quiet, almost serene. To Ballantine, sitting in the passenger coach with Kay and the boys, it looked a lot like the terrain that had surrounded Fort Indiantown Gap. Rolling
hills, forests, green glades and broad meadows. There were no reekers in sight.

  There were also no people.

  The train consist motored on, hurtling down the rails at an average speed of sixty miles per hour before it began a gradual deceleration. Ballantine passed the time with Kay and boys, keeping an eye on them. He chatted with Bill Everson, who was one tough old goat and despite his Marine mannerisms, had the same kind of ethos that Ballantine fancied he exuded. He avoided making eye contact with Diana Li; there was something about her that hit him the wrong way. Ever since he and the rest of the troops had come across her on her motorbike, he sensed she was a potentially disruptive force. In Ballantine’s view, she was the kind of woman who wouldn’t think twice about pitting men against each other if it was to her advantage, and this wasn’t the time or the place for that. The remainder of Ballantine’s men were stressed out enough as it was, and he didn’t need some stripper chick causing any additional friction between them. All his troops were young men—even Guerra was just into his early thirties—and introducing a destabilizing element like Diana was enough to cause him worry. True, she had oriented her sights onto Hastings. But the captain was gone now, chopped over to the ground movement to Fort Bragg. That left Ballantine holding the bag. He had to figure out what to do with Diana, and now that she was suddenly making nice-nice with the boys got his back up something fierce. There was a randomness to her that unsettled him. Ballantine felt that she was squaring herself up for some incident that might happen down the road, and that didn’t exactly sit well with him.