by W J Hegarty
“No thank you, ma’am. I am full.” Soraya rubbed her belly.
“I don’t mean to pry, but may I ask what you’re fiddling with there, honey?”
“This pile of scrap used to be a radio. It took a bullet for me back in Philadelphia, probably saved my life.” She rubbed her side. “The radio took the brunt of the damage, but it still hurt like hell. It may not look like much now, but if I can get it working again, maybe we can get in contact with command and agree on a rallying point.”
“Oh my, that sounds confusing. I’d better returned to my chores. This place won’t clean itself.” Grace smiled and returned to her cleaning. “If you need anything else, I’m just a shout away.” Grace wasn’t really interested in what Soraya was doing; she merely wanted to let the young soldier know without having to come out and say it that she was welcome. It was just her way.
“Thank you, Mrs. Grace.”
Miller gently closed the door behind him, the old woman who ran the place seemed on edge. No need to upset her further with another earful of dire conversation. He took a seat beside Soraya and began stripping the second radio for her. “Hey.”
“Hello, sir.” Soraya smiled, though she didn’t rise from her task.
“How are your ribs feeling? Any better?”
“Much better, thank you. Aiko was right: I was being stubborn. It is fine now. I just needed rest.”
“Good. You think you’ll be able to fix one of these things?” He looked over the pile of components, unable to make heads or tails of any of it.
“I believe so, yes. These things no difficult can piece.” She stopped. It was happening again, and thanks to Lev, now she was aware of the problem. It embarrassed and frustrated her, making it worse.
“It’s okay. Just calm down,” Miller said gently as he took her trembling hands in his. “Breathe and take it slow. There’s no need to get yourself worked up. It’s only a radio.”
“I am okay, sir. Just need to fix radio.”
“I know what’s been bothering you, but you did what you had to do back there at Hall Station,” Miller insisted. “Lev was out of control. He could have killed us all. It was him or everybody else. You did the right thing, Soraya.”
“I know, Captain.”
“Please,” he said warmly. “It’s just Miller. That’s what my friends call me.”
“Thank you.” Soraya allowed herself the briefest of smiles. “Miller.” She pronounced his name mee-lor.
As worn as Miller was from the road and what he and his unit had gone through since Philadelphia, he still found it adorable when Soraya said his name. She never failed to brighten his day, even when he was at his lowest.
3:10 pm - Mother Leeds
Mother Leeds was unusually empty for such a warm afternoon. The majority of the regulars were most likely at home, pondering the latest Town Hall meeting. Vanessa normally didn’t work the afternoon to early-evening shift. That was her time to relax, so she would leave the bar in Lillian’s capable hands. Vanessa came to trust the girl explicitly over the years and the two became quite close as a result. Vanessa refused to let anyone work a shift alone, so a few days a week, Lillian’s best friend Cindy would fill in.
Cindy’s family moved to Pepperbush the summer before she was to start high school. She and Lillian hit it off from the start and remained best friends since. “I’m going to head home and feed the dogs. I’ll talk to you later,” Cindy said as she wrapped up her apron and punched the time clock.
“Cool, thanks. I’ll swing by after work. The last thing I need is to stay home tonight. Who wants to watch their mom get hammered?” Lillian laughed. Her mother was no drunk. Isabelle was just having a rough time with where current circumstances landed her, not to mention that Lillian’s father spending every night out on berm patrol ate away at her mother’s patience.
Lillian and Cindy slowly grew apart during the past few years. College opened Lillian up to a larger world, one that she had every intention of experiencing, whereas Cindy was content with small-town living. Cindy had aspirations to work with her mother at the box factory in the next town over, but otherwise, she seemed content to never leave. The girls still remained close; they always picked up right where they left off no matter how long they’d been separated. It was inevitable, though, that one day Lillian would leave Pepperbush and her best friend Cindy behind for good.
Radzinski sat alone at the bar, his rifle at arm’s reach and his pack on the stool beside him. Various gear spread out around him kept any curious townsfolk from approaching. “Give me another. The good stuff this time.” He tapped his finger on the bar and gestured for the top-shelf liquor.
Lillian had just the drink in mind: a twenty-year-old Scotch that they hid behind the swill.
Radzinski turned his head ever so slightly, taking in Lillian’s figure as she reached for a bottle from the top shelf. Her shorts were small enough for the bottom of her ass to peek out just an inch below the fabric. Stretching for the bottle, they rode up even farther, revealing more skin, her left cheek almost completely exposed. Maybe this town’s not so bad, after all. He lit up another cigarette and waved for Lillian to hurry back.
Lillian caught his glance but ignored it, as she was familiar with advances from horny customers. She poured the crude soldier two fingers and smiled. New faces in town were always a welcome sight, no matter the circumstances. She was used to the attention her tight skimpy uniform would attract. Show the customers a little skin, flirt with them just enough, and they’d keep coming back for more. Vanessa had told her once, and the lesson stuck. It made perfect sense to her. Living on campus nine months out of the year, Lillian was well aware of the lengths a desperate guy would go to for the attention of a pretty girl. That experience dovetailed well into a part-time job at Mother Leeds.
During the summer when home from school, Lillian worked at Vanessa’s bar for a little extra income, but mostly to escape the boredom she felt living in such a small town so far from what she considered normal society. One more year to go and she could apply for a teaching position in Philadelphia or even Baltimore, for that matter. Anywhere but here, she thought. All her life, she dreamed of moving away from Pepperbush for good. These simple people with their simple problems were nauseating to her. Currently, though, with what was happening in the cities and with these soldiers showing up, she wasn’t sure if she would ever return to school, much less have a chance at the future she had planned for herself.
Lilian replaced the bottle of Scotch with something a little less expensive. The good stuff had to last. “So how bad is it out there?”
“You don’t want to know, kid. Just leave the bottle.” Radzinski offered nothing. Pretty girl or not, he wasn’t about to get cozy with the locals.
“I’ll leave you to it then. Let me know if you need anything else.”
In the earliest days of her employment at Mother Leeds, one of the first things Vanessa taught her was not to pester the customers. If they wanted to be left alone, she shouldn’t bother them. Find someone else to talk to or straighten up the bar; the customer would let you know if they needed something. Oftentimes, the waiting would get customers to open up. Occasionally that method would backfire and they would leave frustrated and angry. It was rare, though.
A second soldier entered the bar; it was Captain Miller. He quickly scanned the patrons until his eyes fixed on Radzinski at the far end of the bar. “Radzinski, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Radzinski pulled his face from the bottle long enough to make eye contact. “What does it look like I’m doing? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s the end of the fucking world, Miller, and we keep finding ourselves right in the shit.” Radzinski downed a shot and set his glass up for another. “Cheers.”
Miller stepped between Radzinski and the prying eyes of the rest of the bar. “I need you focused. In less than two days, this town is going to be crawling with infected. You’re no good to me or these people if you’re hammered.” Mil
ler slid the Jameson’s just out of arm’s reach.
“Oh, we’re going to play this game, huh? I’ve had three shots, and this is only my second beer for Christ’s sake. Calm the fuck down.” Radzinski shook his head and reached for another cigarette.
Miller cut the distance between them in half.
“You will address me as ‘sir.’ Am I clear?”
“Please. Takashi only field-promoted you to make sure he stays in charge if that leg winds up sidelining him. As far as HQ is concerned, you don’t outrank me, so you can go wave that discipline flag somewhere else.” Radzinski leaned back as far as the stool would allow. The angle provided a clear shot to blow smoke in Miller’s face.
The good of the mission and the advanced timeframe was not lost on Miller. For the time being, keeping the unit intact was the priority. Disciplinary issues could wait. The clock was ticking on what could very well turn out to be another sustained battle. Despite the glaring lack of respect for the chain of command, Miller approached the situation from a different angle. “Look, if we can speak man to man, I don’t want to be in your face like this, I really don’t, but we have to keep it together here, Radzinski. These people need our help, and if we’re at each other’s throats, we’re no good to anyone.”
“Save it. You’ve got two choices here, Miller. Back off or I walk the fuck out of this town. Some of the others may even come with me. How’s that make you feel?” Radzinski rose from his stool. He looked down on Miller with a grin as he stood a solid six inches taller than his commanding officer. “Now, if you’ve finished waving your cock around, I’m going to sleep for a few hours.”
Radzinski swallowed the rest of his drink, gathered his gear, and withdrew from the conversation, leaving Miller angry and more than slightly embarrassed. If that little scene had played out in front of the unit and not a handful of civilians, he feared he would have lost all credibility in the eyes of his subordinates. Radzinski was getting harder to deal with by the day. Unfortunately, that would have to remain an issue for another time.
Garrett entered the bar from the kitchen area in the back. Walking with a heavy foot, he cleared his throat, quietly announcing his presence for the young captain. A hothead arguing with a young officer that passed him in rank was rare but not unheard of. A little reassurance would do Miller good, he thought.
“Garrett.” Miller greeted the older soldier with a nod. “What are you doing in here? I never took you for much of a drinker,” Miller asked, pulling up a barstool.
“Don’t drink. Quit the stuff when you were in grade school.” Garrett took a conservative sip from a small bottle of water. “I’ve been scouting locations to dig in for the shit. The roof of this bar is the perfect spot to set up my nest. This place has got a clear line of sight to the gate. Plus, I’ll be able to offer covering fire for at least a portion of the front line, provided the weather cooperates.”
“That’s a relief. God knows we’re going to need all the help we can get tomorrow. So how much of that did you hear?” Miller came out with it, face partially flushed.
“Enough to know Radzinski’s losing it. Don’t take anything he says to heart, kid. Long and short of it is he’s an asshole. Pricks like Radzinski come and go and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it, now especially,” Garrett offered. “The best you can do is focus on the ones you know you can count on. Eventually he’ll burn himself out and fall in line or go AWOL. Either way, fuck him. He’s a good fighter, no question, and we’ll need the manpower down the road and most assuredly when those things get here. But that’s as far as it goes.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I definitely don’t have time for this shit right now.” Miller stood, slung his rifle, and offered a quick wave to Lillian, who returned the gesture. “Well, if you’re all set here, I’m going to keep moving.”
“I’m good, sir,” Garrett responded. “I’ll be looking for a few volunteers to help keep this place secure and give me a hand. We’ll hunker down and ride this motherfucker out, Captain.”
“Good luck, Garret.” Miller left and hit Main Street with a light jog, onto his next destination.
Back inside the bar, Garrett politely waved Lillian over. “Can you spare a minute, sweetheart?”
3:45 pm - Bed-and-Breakfast
Broderick sat alone beneath a wide bay window at a far table toward the front of Grace’s. He leaned his elbows on his knees, head down in his palms. This was the nearest semblance of a break, or time to simply unwind, that the young soldier had in weeks. The horrors he witnessed just getting here finally overwhelming him. Soraya stood above Broderick, hand on his shoulder and trying to comfort him. She wasn’t much older. Twenty-two to be exact. She was keeping it together; some were just better at it. Quicker to adapt.
“I don’t know what’s gotten over me. Crying like a baby.”
“Let it out. It is nothing to feel embarrassed about.”
“Thanks, Soraya. If anything, you’re the one who should be upset. I’m sorry about Lev.”
“Do not be. Lev was no good.” Soraya rolled her eyes at another mention of Lev.
Yes, both she and Lev were Israeli. That didn’t make them friends. They were strangers in a strange land, coworkers at best. Lev clearly held disdain for Soraya; he never tried to hide it. Sure, they were both chosen for the troop exchange. It was a high honor, but that didn’t make either of them exempt from insecurities and prejudices. Maybe Lev simply didn’t like serving with her. It was becoming less common but still a reality that some men just didn’t want to serve with women.
Soraya would comfort Broderick for now. She didn’t have time for this. He needed to snap out of it fast. Preparations needed to be made, fortifications checked. Pepperbush needed to be brought up to speed, and here she was holding someone’s hand. She should have kept tinkering with the radio and ignored his sobs. As if answered from on high, Soraya heard her commanding officer coming.
Grace surprised Takashi with a hug as he limped from the makeshift triage. He went wide-eyed at the gesture but returned a hug of his own all the same. “Good afternoon, Grace. Thank you again for the wonderful meal this morning.”
“My pleasure, Mister Takashi. Could I offer you a coffee while you’re still here?”
“I’d love a cup, Grace. Thank you.”
Soraya and Broderick leaped to attention when they heard the colonel’s voice.
“At ease. Have a seat, please.” Takashi motioned to the chairs beneath the window. Pepperbush’s expanse lay beyond.
Outside of the window, people came and went about their days, ignorant to the fact that these soldiers’ arrival was a harbinger of doom. Takashi felt a growing swell of remorse that his unit’s mere presence shattered the tranquility of this once peaceful town. If asked, most would not fault the colonel for leading an army of undead to their doorstep, though the sentiment wouldn’t quell Takashi’s guilt. In less than thirty-six hours, two days if they were lucky, these people would be fighting for their lives. Takashi had no way of being sure if any of them would survive the coming onslaught, including his unit. Everyone left in his command had a job to do. Keeping them focused could mean the difference between life and death. The population of Pepperbush depended on it. “We need to discuss what comes next.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Understanding
By dinnertime, Town Hall was filled far beyond capacity. Nearly every man, woman, and child turned out for whatever news Takashi and his men had to offer. The appearance of nine battle-worn soldiers in their quiet little town rightfully unnerved these people. It started with a few whispers, a comment here and a response there, but quickly turned into full-blown conversations until the assembly room was filled with panicked voices. The citizens of Pepperbush, who for so long hid behind the false sense of security the berm provided, were in no way prepared for the implication of Takashi’s unit showing up at their doorstep.
Marisol approached the podium. The concern etched on her face only added to th
e growing trepidation of the crowd, which remained vocal. Various people shouted questions in unison. Their loud voices blended together in a cacophony of nearly unrecognizable ramblings.
“What’s happening, Sheriff?”
“Why is the army here?”
“Are we being evacuated?”
“We’re being quarantined, aren’t we?”
Marisol began with an unfamiliar tremble to her voice. “Everyone, if you would please quiet down, we’d like to get this briefing started, but first I have an announcement to make concerning Colonel Takashi and his unit’s presence in our town.”
Behind her, Colonel Takashi stood, waiting for her to finish. He was prepared for his own address to the uneasy crowd. Miller and the other soldiers stood behind him at attention. Their stern looks solidified the people’s dread that an ominous announcement lay ahead.
Radzinski stood far off at the end of the dais, displaying his typical disregard for proper posture. He rolled his eyes with every eager question from the crowd. The Marine obviously held these people in contempt.
“This isn’t good.” Miller leaned in for Takashi’s benefit, careful to keep his comments from the people’s eager ears.
“No, it isn’t. We’re committed now, though, Miller. Focus. These people need us. We don’t have much time.”
Marisol turned the podium over to Takashi. The crowd began to calm as the stranger took the stage.
Takashi grew up poor in an Indiana suburb; he was born during the Kennedy administration to first-generation immigrants. The colonel was intimately familiar with small-town politics and their penchant for distrusting outsiders. His family scraped by as best as it could by stretching every last dollar as far as possible. Takashi’s parents had a rough go of it as immigrants in a turbulent era, a direct result of losing everything after spending time in a Japanese internment camp as young adults during the Second World War. Tales from those trying years were the catalyst for Takashi enlisting. He felt compelled to prevent something similar from ever happening again. If such fear manifested itself on American soil once, it could raise its head anew. Takashi wanted to put himself in position to make a difference. Maneuver to the front lines, fighting as the voice of reason against such atrocities. At least the people of Pepperbush were letting strangers in. That was a good sign that they might actually be receptive to what he had to say, despite a few sideways glances and hushed accusations.
