Gerbis was on top of each detail, making sure the wood was properly installed over the glass doors. The windows were too narrow and the glass too thick to worry about. He almost helped when he saw they were having trouble moving the pool table out of the snack bar, but was able to resist. He watched as a truck was parked in front of each door.
Gerbis walked up to the truck that had just blocked in the door. Less than an inch separated it. He looked at the driver and the sergeant who had been directing the task. “Outstanding job, men, I couldn’t have done better myself. Carry on, and be sure to leave the keys in the ignition in case we need to move them in a hurry.” The two men looked at each other and waited for the Lt Col to turn the corner before releasing their pent-up laughter at the pompous ass.
Dependents had made themselves at home in the main briefing room as they had been directed to. The kids were out of control, climbing onto the stage, then jumping off, running out the front doorway of the room, down the hall and back in through the rear doorway, their parents no longer caring, as long as they didn’t shout. Lt Gloria Alban had to dodge the kids more than once as she helped clean out the secretary’s office across from the briefing room of bloody seats and then tearing up the carpet. Gloria balanced the last piece of carpet on her shoulder, trying not to get any blood on her newly repaired and cleaned uniform blouse. Carrying it into the hallway, her leg crumpled under her and the weight of the carpet pulled her to the ground.
“Hey, get off me, you big cow!” Gloria laughed at the predicament of the small boy who had run into her, now trapped under her butt.
“Sugar, if I get off you, will you settle down and stay with your mom?” Gloria asked as she contorted herself into a position to stand without crushing the eight-year-old boy.
“My mom got real sick last night. Dad’s deployed to the desert, I don’t have anyone.” He tried not to whimper as he spoke.
“Well, fine, then. I claim you for me.” She reached down for the small blonde boy’s hand, the contrast of her ebony skin against his pale skin bring back unwanted memories. “Now grab the back of this rug and help me carry it out of here.”
“Yes, Ma'am.” The boy smiled as he lifted the rug up to his shoulder. What am I doing with that boy? I should give him to one of the mothers in there and wash my hands of him. The boy struggled to keep up for the short walk to the snack bar, then out the double doors to a patio area. The sun gave her a headache and forced her to squint to avoid the pain in her eyes, nonetheless, she forced herself to keep moving. She laughed when she saw the pool table standing in the rocks, balls and pool cues on top of it. Some boys probably thought they’d play pool and got busted. Wish I’d seen that. “Come on, we’ll drop it by the pool table out of the way.” The boy grunted as they threw the carpet down.
“Well, thank you for your help, Billy. You should go back in with the other kids now where it’s safe.”
“My name is Oliver, Oliver Jones.” The boy wrapped his arms around Gloria’s waist and pushed his face into her crotch. She could feel as well as hear him sobbing. She pulled him away from her and could feel her pants were wet.
“Come on, shrimp, I bet I know where we can find a candy bar.” Oliver grabbed her hand in a death grip and would not let go for the short walk back into the building. “Now you go behind the bar there and tell me what you find in the drawers.”
“Chunky Bar! The boy screeched in happiness, holding the bar above his hand. Gloria was happy for the boy but wondered what would happen to the kid in this new world. She grabbed a pillow off one of the sofas and grabbed Oliver’s hand.
“I’m getting a little tired. Want to take a nap with me?” Oliver nodded his head ‘yes’, squeezing her hand more firmly. She took him to the back of the briefing room then pushed aside a curtain. She jumped back as a kid scurried out from his hiding place. She opened the door to a short hallway used as a closet. She pulled out a red Santa suit complete with built in belly from a cardboard box, then laid down, using it as a small mattress. I’ll just get Oliver settled in here and see what else they want me to do. Oliver snuggled up alongside her, feeling warm against her. She felt him breathing hard almost instantaneously as he passed out, wrapped around her leg. I’ll just give him a few minutes to fall asleep, then get up.
Chapter 8
Peterson AFB, Colorado. April 2, 2029
Caleb had never even known the base had an ammunition storage area and was surprised by the three concrete bunkers with grass growing on top of them. The driver of the truck was driving along the security fence, rambling on about soccer as Caleb and the airman sitting next to the driver ignored him. The driver stopped at the security gate and proceeded to turn the numbers on the lock until it popped open. The driver let the gate swing open as he returned to the truck and proceeded to the first concrete building. The driver did a 180 and then backed up almost to the door before stopping. “Come on, the sooner we get done here, the sooner we can go get something to eat.” Caleb’s stomach began to growl at the thought of food.
The driver obviously had little faith in the two airmen detailed to assist him, doing as much of the work himself that he could. Removing a huge padlock that looked like it could withstand any attempt to break it open, he pushed the door along its tracks to the right, looking up in surprise as Caleb pushed the other door open also. The bunker smelled of old wooden pallets, metals and a mix of spray paint and cleaners. The interior went back about a hundred feet and was thirty feet wide. A dozen lights going along the center of the ceiling barely provided enough light. There were twenty or thirty neatly stacked piles of wood, metal and cardboard boxes, each stacked on a pallet, each one with a placard identifying the contents of each stack including lot numbers, date of manufacture, and the owning organization.
“I want the two of you to make sure when we build our own pallets, its only one caliber per pallet. The ones already in here are mixed. If an ammo box has a green tag or a red tag, do not load it on our pallets, they are unserviceable.” The sergeant dropped five pallets on the ground.
“This is for 9mm, that’s for 5.56 cal, that ones for .50 cal, that ones for 7.62 cal, and the last one is for grenades. Anything else you find in there, leave alone.” He walked to the back of the truck and pressed the button that lowered the small forklift to the ground.
“We have a pallet already to go here. It’s all .50 cal. Do you want us to carry it all over to the new pallet or will you take it as is?” Caleb shouted over to the sergeant. The sergeant walked over, looked over the boxes, and then read the placard.
“That wasn’t what I said to do, but good job; we’ll take this one as it is. Keep your eyes open for pallets that are already good to go.” The temperature in the bunker stayed around 55 and Caleb felt like he was melting as he rushed to build the pallets. Only after he began did he realize he wasn’t getting tired and the ammo boxes felt light to him even as the others struggled carrying similar boxes. Are those guys that out of shape or am I just that macho?
The first truckload of ammo was ready in an hour. The sergeant gave Caleb a down and dirty on how to use the forklift, giving him instructions to keep building pallets until he returned. He then gave him the keys to each of the three bunkers.
“Hey dude, what’s say we take five? It’ll be a while before the sergeant comes back.” The other airman sat down and then pulled a protein bar out of his pocket and began eating it in front of Caleb without a second thought. Caleb, ignored him and looked into the bunker, there appeared to be enough ammo to build only one more pallet.
“You take your break, then finish up the last pallet in here. I’ll open the next one and get a start on it.”
“Yeah sure, whatever.” The airman said dismissively
Caleb drove directly towards the other bunker over the grass and contemplated tearing it up and decided against it. The lock on the next bunker had to have weighed ten pounds by its bulk alone, Caleb started to wonder if something was going on with him. I have the same dilated eye
s like the zombies, but don’t feel the need to eat brains or attack anyone. A1C Wang was a zombie and wanted to give me a piece of ass, could I be like the missing link between man and zombie?
He put those thought to the side as he slid open the doors to the bunker. There was ten times the number of complete pallets. Each placard was labeled WRM without a unit supply point number. Dang, I know that abbreviation, war reserve material. Hell, it’d take at least five C-130Js to move just what’s here! A quick check of the pallets showed the majority of the ammo was 7.62 cal, .50 cal, and 40mm grenades, maybe ten percent was 5.56 cal.
The forklift started right up and he felt himself bouncing as he sped on to the next bunker staying on the concrete. He raced to see what was behind door number three. Caleb paid no attention to the padlock and just threw it to the side. The doors did not want to move as easily as the first two bunkers. When he finally looked in, he saw the same amount of boxes as in bunker two. He walked down the rows and realized there was definitely more ammo than bunker number two, almost all of it 5.56 cal. The placards again read, WRM. Damn, not only did I hit the jackpot, but also the only work here will be moving the pallets onto the truck using the forklift. This just became a soft detail! I should tell dickhead he doesn’t have to finish that pallet …naw, screw him.
It’s so nice and quiet out here that I can hear not one, but two trucks heading over here. They aren’t messing around this time. Two semis, each towing double flatbed trailers, were heading towards the bunkers. He could recognize the first driver as the same sergeant from earlier.
“Okay, I’m done over here.” The other airman hollered to Caleb.
“Great, I did both of the bunkers in the time it took you to do that one pallet.”
Before the semi could stop, Caleb jumped up on the running board. “The other two bunkers are completely packed with WRM pallets, the last one is almost entirely 5.56 cal. The middle one is mainly heavier stuff, grenades, machine gun ammo, heavy and 7.62 cal. So, what’s the plan?”
“We’ll load up a mix of the heavy stuff and 5.56. I think we got all the 9 mm they’ll ever want in the first load. I have a forklift on the other trailer; you and what’s-his-face can sit out the rest of the show. The two of us can do it faster using the forklifts than with the two of you helping. Here.” The sergeant handed him a couple of MREs and a couple of one-liter bottles of water. “Enjoy while you can, things will only get busier later.
Caleb walked over to the first bunker and handed over a water and MRE, after first checking to see what they were. He then went to sit alone in the grass. Tearing open the MRE bag, he heard the airman whining, “What the fuck is Lemon Pepper Tuna?” Ah, thank you, that makes my Meatballs with Marinara just that much more appetizing. Caleb didn’t taste anything wrong with his water. After eating, he decided not to resist taking a nap until needed. The semi trailers were not even half loaded when the sergeant took a moment to look over and laugh at the two-drugged airmen.
Lt Col Zeifer could not slow down his rapidly beating heart. He’d received a truckload of ammo, the entire supply on base, and his people were able to get into the supply warehouses after a pitched battle with the zombies, and recovered a thousand M4s from the weapons’ safe there. The mobility supplies were easier access. Now pallets of field gear and cold weather gear was being loaded on the second C-130J. The first load out had been mainly people and ammunition. They’d managed to load over two hundred people on the C-17 by strapping most of them on the floor like cargo. He looked at his watch and read 1230 hrs; he still had almost seven hours. There were still mobility supplies including field kitchens, bulk food, clothing, and five M1117 armored cars that should be brought with.
Chapter 9
Converse County Airport, Wyoming. April 2, 2029
MG Peterson could not believe he made such a massive mistake. He’d forgotten he was at a light airport with zero cargo hauling or unloading ability.
Major Arnot ducked into the terminal to use the bathroom and escape the wrath of Peterson, who was royally pissed at himself and anyone within range of him. Enjoying the moment of quiet, he noticed the sign on the wall for transient aircraft that needed fuel. Jotting down the number, he went over to the office and tried it, not expecting anything.
“Wyoming Full Fuel Services, this is Randy. We’re closed today because of the current crisis.” Arnot could not believe his luck.
“This is Major Arnot, USAF, I’m out at the Converse County Airport; we are trying to unload supplies and need heavy equipment. This is the only number I could find. Can you help us?”
“Are you in the office there?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I knew I saw some military planes come in. Stay by that phone.” The line went dead. Arnot looked around and saw a pot of coffee was brewing; he took two steps when the phone rang.
“Major Arnot, USAF.”
“You’re in luck. I was able to get hold of a couple folks I know that have equipment that are nearby on Hwy 59. I told them you have an emergency and they’ll be there in an hour or less, each of them has a D50, that should help move your stuff. So, y’all here to kick some zombie ass? They sure as hell need it. Why, the whole damn world’s falling apart between the zombies and the alien invasion. I’ll see what other help I can find and send your way.”
Arnot hung up the phone confused. What the hell is a D50? And what the hell was he saying about an alien invasion? He didn’t have long to ponder, the phone interrupted his thoughts.
“Major Arnot, USAF.”
“Major Arnot, this is acting Sheriff Michelle John for the city of Douglas. I wanted to give you a quick call and see if there’s any support you may need. I’d also like any information you have that you can pass on about the zombies or the alien invasion.”
“Thank you, Sheriff John. We are doing okay so far, just having to unpack. For the zombies--this is not official--I’d get everyone out of your town in a secure place. I’m hearing those places that went through a second night found it even worse than the first night of the attacks. The zombies appear to be faster and stronger than the first night. Best way to put them down is headshots, but destroying their heart works good too. Any major wound that causes severe arterial bleeding can be effective as well. Just get your people away from the zombies where you can better protect them. That’s why, in my opinion only, major cities will not recover from this pandemic. I haven’t received any information about an alien invasion. If you could pass on my advice to the other local cities I’d appreciate that and, hopefully, save some additional lives in the process.” I need to get with General Peters about this. We really need to coordinate with the local governments if we hope to achieve anything. “If there’s nothing else, sheriff, I need to get back to my fires here.” He hung up without listening for any reply.
Peters followed the dorky little Lt Lewandowski to an office in the back of the hangar. The boy looked like a stiff wind would blow him away, except the coke bottle glasses were heavy enough to keep him safely on the ground. Peters was impressed that the lieutenant did not try to make small talk or ‘prime’ him for the brief he had cobbled together for him. He came across as confident and knowledgeable. The young man had a desk with a large monitor and a comfortable office chair waiting.
“Thank you, sir, for allowing me this time to show you what AFSC has compiled. I take no credit for anything you are going to see. On 31 March, strange anomalies were detected along the 175th meridian from the South Pole all the way to the North Pole. Thousands of low orbit ghost objects were tracked.” Lewandowski showed a recording from the tracking stations, including background chatter from confused operators. “We were unable to determine size or get any pertinent information at the time. None of our satellites were able to get any photographic evidence. After a few hours, they disappeared towards the South Pole region. Today, similar ghosts were tracked from Antarctica, again. This time they took up positions over every nuclear power plant on the planet. At 1000 hrs local time, b
right beams of light--we’re assuming they were some type of weapon--took out every nuclear power plant in the world.” A video displayed quick snapshots of hundreds of holes in the ground. “None of our sensors have detected any radioactive fallout from the event. Our sensors did monitor the beams. They lasted only a couple seconds; they were unable to determine what level of power they were, and the temperature for the beams was beyond our scale to measure.” The video switched to footage from Japan and other Asian countries that appeared to be rioters, “These are the first outbreaks recorded of the pandemic, note they are all not far from the 175th meridian. I believe the source of the pandemic is from aliens.”
A new video started that looked like a cloud that was in space. The video was out of focus and almost impossible to make out. “Watch the top left of the screen, sir.” A new, fuzzy, gray cloud was barely visible for a second, then a bright white beam of light shot out at the white cloud that disappeared.” I believe we just saw a space battle. No wreckage has been tracked from it. Then the other ship blinked and was gone. We also have an intercept from Israel I think you will want to see.”
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