“At ease, sergeants,” he said when the three gathered around him. The two men and woman stood at ease, waiting for his orders. He glanced at their names, stitched into the cloth tag on their uniforms, and matched each name to the face, fixing it in his memory.
“On Friday morning, I need each of you to organize your squads and take two five-tons off base. You’re familiar with the large shooting range near West Point? Otter Creek Gun Range?”
All three nodded, so he continued. “You and your men need to requisition all of the firearms, munitions and ammo at that range. If Andy Russell is still alive and gives you Second Amendment shit, you advise him we are under martial law, and you have been instructed to secure those firearms with deadly force, if needed. If he continues to resist, you place him under arrest and bring him to the post with the weapons and ammunition. I’ve already been getting reports of looting and gunshots from Radcliff, and I do not want those weapons in the hands of the civilian populace. Is that understood?”
He waited for the “Yes, sirs” and then went on, thinking as he spoke. “There’s a smaller gun shop, closer to Shepherdsville, on State Road 44. DJ’s Gun Shop, if I’m remembering correctly. There’s a sign on the side of the road, just before the Nichols Fire Station. The owner runs the shop out of his garage. I’m not sure what his inventory is, because it’s been years since I’ve been there. Requisition his arms also, and search the entire premises for stockpiles.”
They acknowledged the order, and Kasoniak dismissed them. He knew their convoy would pass right by Kari’s apartment, but he couldn’t – wouldn’t – issue the order for them to check on her. It was not possible, when so many of the soldiers under his command had loved ones they were missing, too. He sighed as he looked around. The post was too large, spread out over thousands of acres. It was indefensible with an army of hundreds and the destruction was so severe they’d never be able to rebuild without more manpower.
Kasoniak needed to set up work crews to salvage what could be salvaged and to begin construction on a more defensible front … but where? And when? He was already running low on manpower. Medical treatment and personnel accountability came first. They needed to tighten the barricades around their perimeter but they also needed to send out scouts to locate and study the enemy. It wasn’t yet time to go on the offensive, but they definitely needed to start developing intel. Kasoniak frowned. There were too many things needing to be done and not enough soldiers to do it.
Kari
Kari bit back a smile as she and Jenn walked into the playroom and Mike stayed in the foyer, talking with the daycare worker. She didn't miss the deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face when he glanced in, his eyes scanning the kids before quickly turning back to Miss Annie. The man had shown himself capable, and he was way hot, even if a bit young for her. But the children panicked him, and that made her want to laugh.
Kari sat down and began learning the kids’ names, playing “Miss Mary Mack” with a cute little five-year-old named Kayli. She liked kids, and it looked like Jenn felt the same. Kari considered making a snarky gender-related comment to Mike about it, but those remarks always had a way of turning around and biting her in the ass. Besides, he really did seem to be a nice guy … and he was the one with the ride. She decided to play nice, for now, at least. Maybe once they found a FEMA shelter and dropped the kids off, he’d even consent to drive her to the post. She carried more than enough cash to pay him for his trouble. She frowned, thinking of all the closed businesses and broken windows. How valuable was paper currency right now? She probably should have flushed the benjies and kept the drugs.
It didn’t matter. If he wouldn’t take her to Knox, he’d at least get her to Dixie Highway, and that was a lot closer than where she was.
Mike and Miss Annie stepped into the playroom, he looking distinctly uncomfortable, she looking relieved. So … he agreed to take the children. Kari counted thoughtfully – four were young enough to need car seats, and Mike’s SUV seated nine. Uh-oh.
The children fell silent as the strange man came in. The tiny, wispy blonde-haired girl sitting beside Jenn began to cry, and Jenn automatically put an arm around her. The silence of the other children strained, so Kari started playing nice.
“Hey, guys. This dude is Ryan Mike. I think we’re all going to get to ride in his truck!”
Nathan, the six year old who talked almost incessantly from the moment Kari sat down, looked Mike over skeptically. “Iron Mike?” he asked. “You must be real strong, then!”
“Oh, he is,” Kari promised solemnly, speaking quickly before Mike could correct the boy. “I bet he’s strong enough to swing you around like an airplane!”
And the game was afoot.
Half an hour later, Kari and Jenn knew each child’s name and age, and Mike was sitting Indian-style while the children clambered over him, some of them still begging for another airplane ride. Kari learned two of the babies would be leaving with Miss Annie, leaving only Ariel, the tiny blonde one-year-old, and Anthony, the red-haired three-year-old, needing car seats. Kari had no idea how that was going to work.
She was surprised to find out it wasn’t. Mike got the children’s attention and had everyone sit in a circle around him while he gave orders. Even Ariel seemed to listen, her eyes moving between Mike’s eyes and his ponytail while she sucked her thumb.
“Okay, so you guys know some bad things happened, right?” he started. At the children’s solemn nods, he continued. “What Miss Kari and Jenni and I are going to do is take you guys to a safe place. There will be a lot of people there to take care of you, and hopefully your parents will be able to find you there when everything isn’t so crazy anymore. But I’m going to need your help, because it’s still snowing outside, and the roads can be dangerous. Y’all know what that means?”
The children looked at him with blank faces. Kari struggled to come up with an easier explanation, but Stephen, the ten-year-old who helped Miss Annie drag all of the bodies into the storage room when the attack first happened, spoke up first. “It’s like when Scooby and Shaggy are hiding from the monsters,” he explained. “They have to be real quiet, even when they’re scared.”
The children nodded in comprehension, and Nathan softly volunteered that Scrappy Doo was his favorite. Mike shot a quick nod to Stephen, grateful he was able to continue with his instructions.
“That’s a good comparison,” he said, looking at Stephen a bit more closely. Miss Annie told him how helpful the older boy had been, but he couldn’t remember the kid’s name to save his life. “The thing is, we’re not going to have any car seats, and there won’t even be enough seatbelts – you guys are going to have to share. The bigger kids are going to have to help take care of the little ones. And with the roads being all slippery with snow, it means I’m going to have to drive really careful.” Mike’s voice hardened slightly, a no-nonsense tone of parental authority slipping in. “So if Miss Kari or I tell any of you to do anything, you have to mind us right away. Deal?”
The older children all said “Deal!” and fist-bumped Mike to seal the bargain. Ariel sucked her thumb and red-haired Anthony continued to play with a plastic sorting cube, trying doggedly to push a round peg into a star-shaped hole. Kari wondered fleetingly what she had gotten herself into. Then it was too late because Miss Annie was there with shoes, coats, and mittens, and there was a flurry of activity in the foyer.
January 3.
North America
Farmer-Herdsman stepped carefully among the Mothers, pushing one out of his way as he examined another. They jostled against him as he walked between them in the pens, their huge, tubular bodies undulating as if to song. They were eager to birth, anxious to be in the loam and rich soil so their young could be born and feed. They would find protein, as they always did, their adaptive camouflage making them the perfect predator, their digestive processes making them the perfect vessel for soil enrichment and aeration.
He could sense the excitement in their pr
imitive, simple minds as he ran his hands over one, then another, of the beasts. Rich, unpolluted soil was a rarity in the core galaxies, and this was an entire - albeit small - planet, with absolutely no Xnebial pollutants at all! The soil was clean. The Mothers could feed and raise their young without worrying about toxicity levels. Their progeny would live the full span of their years, not the painfully abbreviated lifespan they had always known.
This small planet was a paradise for the Mothers ... and, of course, the People would benefit as well. The crops the soil produced would be clean and pure, and they would fetch the highest price on the galactic souk. Most of the foods would probably go to the high-end restaurant and hotel chains; the rest would be sold in markets. The mushrooms could also be grown here, and billions of credits would be made off of them alone.
One of the Mothers touched Farmer-Herdsman with her prostomium, and he turned to her, patting her side reassuringly. She quivered at his touch, and he moved on, checking the other annelids for injury or undue fragility. Satisfied that his herd was healthy, Farmer-Herdsman removed his corporeal form and floated back to the docking station before resuming it. He nodded to the Belvian engineer, a slight frown on his brow. The Belvian was a sapient being, but he had no unique functional designation, so Farmer-Herdsman did not know how to address it.
The Belvian returned Farmer-Herdsman's nod. Its appendages ran over the control panel with practiced ease, and the gates to the pens rose as the hatchway lowered. The Mothers started out, moving happily toward the light and the fresh, protein-rich scent of the loam.
Simultaneously, gates rose and hatchways lowered on a thousand ships ringing the small carbon-based planet. The plowing had begun.
Hershey
Hershey was happy to be going back to work. His human still cried some, and she still talked to hailmary, but not as much as she did the day before. When morning came and she got up to do her morning things, he followed her from room to room again, but he didn’t crowd her as he had the day before, so she didn't scold him. She knew now the Badness had happened, and since his human knew about it, everything would be okay. Hershey jumped up into the truck, wagging his tail with enthusiastic happiness when she was finally ready to go. It was later than when they usually left for work – the sun was higher in the sky – but Hershey was still excited.
It took a long time for them to get to work. His human stopped the truck and turned it around several times, each time going a different way. But finally, Hershey could smell that they were on the right road, close to work. His nose wrinkled several times as they pulled into his human’s spot. He knew there were dead cats and dogs inside. But there were also ones still alive, and they needed his human to give them food and water, clean their pens, and tap her fingers on her desk. They needed Hershey to come up to each of them, sniff politely, and wag his tail at them. Work was important –his human told him that frequently, and he always listened to her.
Clare cried again when she found the dead animals, but she set about the work of taking them out of their pens and moving them back to the room where the trucks came in. She handled each one as lovingly as she ever handled Hershey, and she talked to them as she carried them. If they weren’t already dead, Hershey would have growled at them to tell them she was his human, but he didn’t see the point now. When she finally finished moving the dead ones, most of the pens were empty. His human smelled sad, even though she stopped crying, and Hershey stepped up close to her legs so she could rub his head if she wanted to. She did, and she spoke to him in her serious, thoughtful voice.
“I don’t guess we’ll be getting any deliveries, boy, so I think we need to go to PetSmart and Pet Warehouse. I imagine we’ll be having more than our share of strays soon enough. I need to see about the generator, too.”
Hershey wagged his tail in enthusiastic agreement. He understood “boy,” and sometimes when she said “boy” in her serious, thoughtful voice, she gave him a treat. He didn’t smell any treats in her pockets, but she kept some in her desk drawer, too. She didn’t offer him one, though, not even when he wagged his tail harder.
She didn’t tap her fingers on her desk at all that day. In fact, they didn’t stay at work for any time at all. Once she moved the dead animals, she fed and watered the rest of them. It didn’t take long because there weren’t many left. Hershey was glad the big black Lab had made it. They were friends – they always touched noses and sniffed each other when his human cleaned the cages.
Hershey was surprised his human stopped work so soon. She called him into the truck and they drove for a long time, sometimes stopping and backing up like she did when trying to get to work. They could have been home three times before she finally got where she was going. Hershey didn’t mind; he loved the truck, since he never had to ride in a cage in the back anymore. She put his window down halfway, just like always, and he stuck his head out, straining to get as many smells into his nose as he could. A lot of the smells were unpleasant now; dead things, only just beginning to ripen in the cold air.
His human arrived at some big buildings. Hershey went with her to these buildings on a pretty routine basis. She backed her truck up almost to the doors, which was a new one, though. Usually, she parked out further in the blacktop field, and made Hershey wait in the truck until she came back. This time, though, she put his leash on his collar and told him to “come.” Hershey knew that word, so he jumped down from the truck and walked beside her, “heeling” of his own accord. He was a good dog!
The glass doors didn’t open for them. Hershey was used to seeing the doors open themselves while he waited patiently in the truck, and it always startled him when his human approached and the doors moved of their own accord. He always growled softly in his throat, warning the doors they had better not harm his human. These doors didn’t move, though, and his human pushed against them to make them open. Hershey’s nails clicked on the floor, and he kept his tail tucked tightly between his legs. He could smell the dead humans, but he didn’t think she could. She didn’t cry this time, at least.
He followed her to the very back of the store. She unclicked his leash and put it in her pocket, and then she and Hershey played a game they had never played before. She got a long, flat cart on wheels and began moving big bags of dog food onto it. Hershey recognized dog food, so he wagged his tail encouragingly. He wasn’t hungry – he ate that morning before they went to work – but he approved of dog food on general principles, so he liked the game.
His human was puffing hard by the time the long, flat car was stacked high with bags. Hershey didn’t know why she was puffing – they weren't jogging in the park like they sometimes did when it was sunny.
Hershey followed her to the front of the store and watched with keen interest as she moved the big bags of dog food from the cart into the back of her truck. She played the dog food game twice more, although Hershey saw her cheat and add some bags of cat food, too. Hershey wasn’t sure why she did that – cats were useless. But it was a fun game, and he liked following her back and forth, even though his nails clicked on the floor and the sound annoyed him. He was surprised his human decided to play today instead of work; she was very dedicated to working.
He knew his human was tired – “plum beat,” she said to him – and honestly, he was tired too, even though they didn't work today. Hershey slept on the seat of the truck all the way home.
“Tomorrow, we get containers and start siphoning gas out of cars,” his human told him, her voice quiet with fatigue. Hershey wagged his tail happily. He loved it when she talked to him.
Kari
Everyone fit into the SUV, though not legally. Mike carefully put the handgun into the console between himself and Kari, and locked it while the children found seats. Kari said nothing about his gun or the Sig in her pocket. Stephen sat behind Mike on the middle seat, sharing his seat belt with red-haired Anthony. Jenn sat next to them on the bench seat, sharing her belt with Ariel and keeping her arms protectively around the little girl
. Nathan occupied the third seatbelt and immediately began chatting with Jenn.
The other six children, Sasha, Kayli, Brittany, Danny, DeShawn and Cindy, filled the back bench seat. Backpacks and heavy outerwear were stuffed into the cargo area, the overflow effectively blocking Mike’s rear view. He adjusted the side mirrors to compensate and eased back out onto S.R. 44. Ariel began to cry, and then scream in earnest. Mike’s knuckles went white against the steering wheel, so Kari turned in her seat, looking back at the kids. It was time to play nice again.
“Who knows a song we can sing?” she asked, her tone overly chipper. Mike’s shoulders relaxed a bit as the children went through off-key renditions of “London Bridge” and “Row Your Boat.” Ariel’s screaming gradually subsided to quiet sobbing.
The wrecked vehicles on Highway 44 were considerate enough to crash into ditches or trees, and there were no other moving vehicles in either direction. They made good time, and Kari was beginning to breathe easier when they finally reached Dixie Highway. Mike turned south, toward Fort Knox, and Kari resisted the impulse to hug him! They’d been driving less than a mile when Ariel started fussing again. Kari looked at Jenn, hoping for help. She loved kids, but she’d never been stuck in a vehicle with eleven of them before!
Before Ariel got fully cranked up, Mike began singing loudly, enthusiastically, and with a horrible German accent:
Ven der Fuehrer says ve is de master race,
Ve heil!
*Pppffft*
Heil!
*Pppffft*
Right in der Fuehrer’s face!
Iron Mike Page 7
