Arlo was quiet on the ride back from the scene of the massacre of his troops, but his mind was racing for the entire trip. The overt resentment of the two soldiers at the site was worrying. How pervasive was that attitude? Arlo was not a stupid man. He had been aware of the gradual transfer of respect and affection of the troops from himself to Sergeant Barrett.
There was another facet to the dynamics of troop loyalty. Arlo had led his people into being outlaws. When a commander tells a well-disciplined and honorable collection of people that the old rules don’t matter and the oaths they took are no longer binding, it was not surprising that they would eventually start to question the respect and obedience demanded by their superiors. Not that the rank and file would resent having a figure of authority to guide them Most would recognize the need for such a person and would happily submit to him or her as long as that person was a capable leader. Instead of having the choice of such a person made for them, however, now they were in a position to demand the ability to choose their leader. There were no Courts Martial anymore, no punishment for overthrowing an unpopular officer. They were outlaws.
And Arlo knew what usually happened to the discarded leaders of outlaw bands.
Arlo’s thoughts were interrupted as Banks pulled the Humvee up to the other vehicles lining the sides of the road. By that time, though, the ex-Lieutenant had already decided on his course of action. He had initially settled on a gradual chipping away at the stronghold on top of the hill, but the first team he sent out with that objective in mind had been killed. That failure had convinced Arlo that his ability to lead these people was in serious jeopardy. He didn’t believe the troops would remain committed to him unless they saw him doing something bold and decisive.
Arlo exited the vehicle and searched around until he saw Barrett squatting in a circle of soldiers talking and laughing. He stood at attention when Arlo approached and glared at the others until they did the same.
Arlo returned Barrett’s salute and told the group to stand at ease. “Call in the team you sent to the south flank,” he ordered Barrett. “We’re changing plans. We are hitting the hilltop group at first light. Make sure everyone is ready.”
The expression on Barrett’s face showed his surprise, but he responded like the professional soldier that he was. “Yes, sir. Have we a plan of attack?”
“Of course we do, Sergeant!” Arlo emphasized the man’s inferior rank in his voice. “Have all non-coms in my command vehicle in ten minutes.”
With that, Arlo spun on his heel and strode away, confident that he was still firmly in command. As he returned to his Stryker, he glanced to his left and saw the wide, black-topped road that led from Academy Avenue up into the foothills for two miles, eventually arriving at the entrance to the ‘castle’ in which his enemies lived. Such a road was a convenience in peacetime. In times such as this, it could be a deadly liability for the people who built it.
✽✽✽
Dawn cracked the horizon with streaks of yellow and pink. The air was chilly and crisp and smelling of freshness and the lack of industrial pollution. That freshness evaporated as dozens of military vehicles and pickup trucks started their engines and sent exhaust fumes into the air.
Arlo had been up most of the night. It wasn’t fear that kept him awake but rather excitement. Today he would reclaim his authority over the soldiers. His soldiers! He was sitting on the side of the rack in which he had spent the night, tying his boots when he heard the access ramp being lowered. Barrett entered the big truck and saluted.
Arlo deliberately delayed returning the salute until his bootlace was tied, then responded with a nebulous swipe of his hand to his forehead. Barrett dropped his salute and moved to parade rest position.
“As per your orders from last night’s meeting, sir, the non-coms are outside awaiting their final orders.”
Non-commissioned officers were the military version of a field supervisor. Their job was to receive orders from the commander of the unit and ensure those orders were carried out. In the military, that could mean putting oneself in a position in which they might very well be killed. Such was the reality of the life of a professional soldier.
“Bring them in.”
Four men and two women lumbered into the wheeled tank, their boots making ringing noises on the metal floor. Each one would oversee twenty soldiers in the coming operation. They straightened into the attention position when Arlo stood, and he let them remain in that state until he buttoned and straightened his uniform blouse.
“At ease.” They all went to parade rest. He looked to Barrett. “How about the troops and the vehicles? Are they all ready?”
“All ready and in position, sir. The vehicles were taken from a local dealership and fueled up at that little gas station a half mile down Academy using a battery-powered pump. It was slow, but it got the job done.”
Arlo snatched his ball cap with the lieutenant’s bar on it from his cot. He placed it on his head and nodded. “Excellent. And the troops?”
Barrett cast a glance in the direction of the ramp. Some of the soldiers could be seen outside, standing in formation. “Sir, our people are formed up and ready to go. The others? I told their leader about your plan, but he refused to commit to anything until he had a chance to discuss it with you. He’s outside right now, and he’s not happy about being kept waiting.”
“Right.” He fixed each of the non-coms with a stare. “People, we’re about to finish this mess right now. We’re going to use their pretty little road to drive up that hill and right into their laps. By noon today, we will be enjoying their women and gorging ourselves on their food.”
A few of the people present smiled, and two of them exchanged a high five. The two women rolled their eyes.
“Take your positions, people. Let’s get this done.”
The non-coms clattered out. Barrett stayed behind.
“Sir, a word?”
Arlo sighed, long and loudly. “Yes, Sergeant, what is it?”
“Sir, the plan is a good one, but maybe we should entertain a few tweaks?”
“Tweaks? Okay, Sergeant, how would you tweak it? We went over this last night. We’re going to hit them fast and hard using their own road. They won’t be expecting it. We’ll use the trucks to transport our infantry close enough to take covered positions right outside their walls. Our vehicles will remain in motion while peppering their defenses with machinegun fire and rockets. The Stryker will blast the gate with rocket launchers and cover our people with the two fifty cals while they rush the wall. We’ll have them on their knees in an hour.”
With no other troops in the Stryker, Barrett let his military demeanor slide a bit. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t see it happening that way.”
The ex-officer took a step closer until he was two inches from Barrett’s face. The Sergeant infuriated Arlo by not exhibiting any fear or nervousness. Instead, he returned his leader’s glare with one of his own. Arlo could almost feel the insolence of the man.
“You don’t see it happening that way? And tell me, Sergeant, where did you attend Officer Candidate School? What training have you received in warfare? I’m guessing none.”
“Sir, I have experienced combat in Afghanistan, Iraq and Africa. I’ve been in thirteen firefights. I know how things happen in combat. We are attacking a fortified position that is being guided by an extremely effective military commander. They surely have employed an aerial surveillance system against us, probably a drone, and have been watching our every move. It would be stupid of them not to recognize the danger of an assault using the road, and they are not stupid people. They will almost certainly have taken countermeasures. If you didn’t learn that from our earlier encounters with this group, then you haven’t been paying attention…Sir!”
Arlo’s eyes went wide. This was the first time that his second-in-command had dared to be overtly insubordinate. The fury that was welling up inside of the former Lieutenant caused him to sputter briefly before responding.
�
��You forget your place and your rank, Sergeant. And you’re not the only one around here who has been in combat.”
Barrett took a step backward without being given permission because Arlo was punctuating his speech with flecks of flying spittle. He gave a slow shake of his head before replying. “Yes, I’ve heard you talk about your combat experience.” The Sergeant allowed a slight smirk to show on his face. “We both know you’re lying about that. In fact, every combat veteran in this unit knows you’re lying. You’ve never been anywhere near a combat situation, Arlo.”
The revelation that his false representation of himself as a combat-hardened commander was known to be untrue staggered him. His mind immediately went to the question of whether he was being mocked behind his back by the troops. Anger, fueled by embarrassment, rose inside the former officer.
“You are relieved of duty, Sergeant. We’ll do this without you. Consider yourself reduced in rank to Corporal and confine yourself to the rear support element.”
Barrett stared a hole in his commanding officer for an uncomfortable fifteen seconds before finally putting both hands on his hips and dropping all traces of military bearing. “You pathetic clown. You don’t even know that we have no rear support element because you’ve assigned forward combat positions to each and every one of our people. I am not standing aside while you recklessly throw our troops against this target. I will use my experience…my actual experience… to save the lives of our troops to the extent that I can. Then, when this is over, I’m walking, and I will take with me everyone who is sick of the way you’ve perverted our mission to protect the American people.” And with that, the young soldier spun around and stalked out of the Humvee.
Arlo was too stunned even to reply, confronted with the fact that he had no real power over someone who was choosing to disregard his orders. But what could he do? Barrett’s popularity with the troops insulated him from being arrested. There was absolutely nothing he could do about Barrett’s insolence or his plans to steal away a large portion of his army.
Adding to Arlo’s anguish over his second-in-command, as Barrett stepped out of the Stryker, Lobo came strutting in. Arlo flopped back down on the edge of his cot and winced at the pain it caused in his legs. Then he began patting the sheets, searching for his misplaced bottle of Tramadol.
Chapter 26
Major Robert Morrison, U.S. Army (Retired), sat next to Mona at the drone table. He was studying the video feed on the laptop from one of the helo-drones. With all of the enemy action now confined to the area at the bottom of the hill, he had decided we only needed one drone airborne up at any time, saving the other two for when they were most needed. The other helo-drone and the big fixed wing were sitting under blue tarps with electric charging cords leading out from under the covers to the charging ports that Gayle installed nearby. Dawn had just broken, and the infra-red feed from the drone had automatically switched off.
Mona had scooted her plastic chair away from the laptop to give the Major better access to the video display. She pulled her leather jacket tighter around her shoulders to keep away the morning chill. The garment was a gift from Pepper and Mona cherished it. She had never had a real friend before, and she was loving the experience. She just wished it was occurring under different circumstances since she really didn’t know if she was going to survive this day. Mona worried about herself, but she also worried about all of her new friends.
The Major grunted and sat back from the table. He motioned for Mona to slide back in and take control of the drone station.
“They’re coming for us, aren’t they?” she asked.
He laid a hand gently on her shoulder. His attitude toward her had taken a dramatic turn from the first day they’d encountered each other. “Yes, Mona, they are. But don’t worry, Sweetie, we have a few surprises waiting for them.”
Mona hesitated, then covered his hand with her own. She gave it a quick squeeze, then took her hand away.
He thumbed the transmit button on his walkie. “All hands, go to your assigned combat stations. Quickly, people, this is it!”
I heard the transmission over my radio, and it was killing me to be stuck out here, waiting for the horde of mindless, sickened wretches to get close enough for us to slaughter them. I knew the Major was right in having us protect the flank from them. It would be disastrous to have our people in the middle of a full-scale firefight and be forced to turn around and defend against a wave of hundreds of sick but dangerous Ragers. But, I wanted to be up on top of the hill, and it was killing me to sit quietly, waiting for the horde to come into range.
The horde was in range for me. I could start taking them out from five hundred yards away with no problem. My M-240 was capable of that and more. But Buck’s orders were to wait until they were in range of the rifles the rest of my team were carrying. He was to engage them at the bottom of the glen where the topography would force them to clump together. That would allow my gun to mow down large numbers of them more efficiently. Buck wanted to make sure we were able to take out the entire group quickly so we could then join our comrades up on the hill. The last thing we needed was to have to go searching through the trees and rocks for stragglers.
So, I waited. The approaching infected flock was growing in numbers through my view scope. There were well over a hundred now, closer to two hundred and more were surging over the rise in the distance. The final count Pepper gave us was four hundred and fifty, more or less. Probably more. That worried me.
This particular enemy did not carry or use firearms, but they were still extremely dangerous. Most did not use any weapons at all, though a few, about twenty percent, had retained enough brain power to make use of clubs, rocks or pipes. A group that numbered almost five hundred people, however, would require an enormous amount of ammunition to put down, ammunition that we needed for protection against our uninfected enemy. Also, I had been cautioned many times by Buck and Jimmy about the dangers of overheating my M-240. Metal reacted to heat by expanding. Materials used in firearms were treated to withstand that result to a certain extent, but there was only so much that metallurgists could accomplish. The laws of physics would not be ignored. If a gunman were forced to pour a long, continuous string of fire onto a target, he was risking an overtaxing of the weapon’s capabilities.
Not that we had any options here. If we had more time and were not under immediate threat of attack, we might have devised a means of drawing them away by using noisemakers or something else, but that was not open to us.
Buck interrupted my musings. “Virgil, are they all over the hill yet?”
I had a better vantage point than he and could see the crest of the hill more clearly. “That’s a negative, still coming.”
“Damn! Okay guys, when I start this, I want everyone to join in. Pick your targets and make sure to aim. No ‘spray and pray’ action here, we don’t have the bullets. If anyone gets in trouble, let me know in time to get you some help, don’t wait until it’s too late. Don’t let ‘em bunch up around you; get up and run to a better location if you need to. As a last resort, we can all retreat to Virgil’s position up on the hill. The Jeep is up there; we can make a get-away if we need to.”
I swallowed hard after hearing his words. Evidently, Buck had the same fears that I had.
I waited a few more minutes, expecting Buck to open up and getting more nervous with every moment that he didn’t.
POW!
The first shot surprised me even though I was expecting it. I guessed that it resulted in one of our mindless attackers falling but I didn’t see it and I didn’t have time to look for it. I rested my sights on the thickest cluster of diseased humanity that I could see and pulled the trigger.
✽✽✽
Caleb Snow knew something big was going on in several areas around his little grouping of survivors. The quiet that had usually resulted from the end of the world had been shattered on numerous occasions lately. Gunfire was heard all around them making every one of Snow’s surviv
ors uneasy. The Locan group, as they were called by the Hilltop people, did not often venture far from their sanctuary.
Snow and the others in their group had placed sentries along the major highways and roads that could lead others to their community. Several of those lookouts had reported a large column of Humvees and pickup trucks heading east on Shaw Avenue, towards the foothills. The people were heavily armed and numbered well over one hundred. Snow figured something big was happening. He wanted more information and there was only one place that could provide it.
The Locan Group was now using the top floor of one of the abandoned homes as a headquarters. Several devices were being stored there that could be used to keep tabs on the activity nearby. One item was sitting on a table that had been pushed into a corner, giving the appearance of being ignored. There were two other people in the room, both female.
Caleb Snow, the leader of the small group of survivors, sat in a plastic lawn chair in front of the table and took a deep breath, holding it for several seconds before releasing it slowly through his nostrils. He removed his “Jacksonville Jaguars” ball cap and scratched at his balding head. Pulling a folded paper from his breast pocket, he studied the numbers written thereon and reached out to push a toggle switch upward.
Lights on the ham radio slowly glowed brighter and a hint of static emitted from the speakers. Snow dialed in the numbers from the paper and pressed the transmit button on the old-fashioned silver microphone.
“Hilltop, this is Snowman, do you read?” Snow repeated the message several times before there was a response. He recognized the voice as coming from Major Morrison, the big military man.
“Yeah, Snowman, send your message.”
“Hilltop, we are seeing lots of activity around us, numerous vehicles with armed people moving in your direction.”
There was a slight delay before the answer came. “Roger that, Snowman. Looks like we are being put under siege up here. We expect big doings today or tomorrow. Tell your people to keep their heads down.”
Virgil's War- The Diseased World Page 41
