by Schafer, Jon
Chapter 13
Quantico, Virginia:
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff called the meeting to order, "Gentleman, we have an order from the President telling us to take Washington DC back from the dead."
The Commandant of the Marine Corps spoke up immediately, "We need to advise him that it would be a serious misuse of the resources we have here in the United States. The closest base we could launch an assault from is here in Quantico and I'm already committed to bolstering the National Guard and preparing to retake Atlanta per his orders."
"That was before DC fell and we ended up being your guests," the Navy Chief of Staff said. "Now you can scratch Atlanta and write in Washington D.C. as your priority. It'll be a relief to get back to the Pentagon."
The Joint Chiefs, along with most of their staff, had been evacuated early that morning to the Quantico Marine Base when it appeared their safety could no longer be assured if they stayed in the Pentagon. After overrunning the White House, the undead had traveled along the underground metro line and come up inside the five-sided building to run amok. The security forces pushed them back but at great loss. The structure had been sealed from more zombie incursions, but temporary quarters were needed until the area could be fully secured.
"It'll also be a relief when the President finally declares martial law," the Army Chief of Staff commented.
The Chairman cleared his throat for attention before speaking again. "The President has put off declaring martial law indefinitely. He feels he's in control of the situation from his alternate base at Cheyenne Mountain. He wants the Army and Marine Corps to substantially back the National Guard without full deployment of the military."
The Marine Commandant flashed anger at this new development but calmed himself. In as reasonable a tone as he could muster, he said, "If we don't relieve the key cities, how can we keep our supply lines going? We rely on civilian contractors for almost all of our needs, so if they're shut down, soon we'll be shut down. Then the military won't be in a position to substantially back anyone."
"The president is aware of this," the Chairman replied.
"But he's on a course of self destruction because he's afraid that if he hands over power to the military he won't get it back," the Army Chief of Staff pointed out. "My desertion rates are going through the roof and I've had five new reported outbreaks of HWNW at bases across the country. At this rate, by this time next week we won't have a military left to hand power to."
The Chairman held up his hand for silence, reaching in front of him, he flipped several switches on the control board recessed into the table. After pulling a black box the size of a cigarette pack from his uniform pocket, he pushed a toggle switch on the side before laying the device down.
Pointing to it, the Chairman said, "It's a jammer, you'll also notice I’ve turned off all recording devices in the room. What I'm about to say could be construed as treason so I want no record of it." Nodding to his aide who quickly passed out telephone book sized, sealed packets to the men around the table, the Chairman continued, "This is a plan that was put together by some of my men this morning after we evacuated DC. As you are aware, the recall of troops from overseas has been postponed since we don't have the available resources to transport them, so this is an up-to-date listing of all bases and assets of the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marine Corps in the continental United States. It also lays out a rough plan of attack from these bases into their surrounding areas and the gradual reclamation of cities under control of the undead. It calls for a large amount of individual initiative from base commanders as to how this is accomplished since the situation around each base is different. If activated, this plan would start immediately with small scale excursions that will take back our country before it's too late."
"I take it the President didn't authorize this," the Navy Chief of Staff said cautiously. "Is he even aware this plan exists?"
The Chairman sighed, "He's not aware of quite a few things. When I spoke to him an hour ago at 1400, he informed me that Lancelot Linc, secret chimp, would be coming to our rescue any time now and that Erm, the rabid elephant from hell, is behind this virus. The man has gone over the edge. I reported this to his psychiatrist who assured me the President is taking his medication now and will be fine. I was holding the plan I'm showing you in reserve, but after that phone call, I feel it is in the country’s best interest to bypass our Commander-in-Chief and take matters into our own hands."
"What if we decide to turn you in for treason?" The Navy Chief asked.
"You would be doing this country and its people a great disservice. I would go along peacefully but you would be in the same situation as before. I ask you, who is with me on this? Who will step forward to help save the United States before we run out of time?"
The men eyed each other for a moment before all raised their hands.
Tearing open the flap on the packet in front of him, the Chairman said, "Then let's get to work. I want to go over some force relocations for the next hour or so and then get these orders out. Operations are to begin at 0600 tomorrow morning, but we can start moving assets tonight."
Donning his reading glasses, the Chairman said, "Let's start with McDill Air Force Base in Tampa. Centcom is located there and they’re top heavy with troops. We'll leave the base security in place and move the other units to bases around the Atlanta area and over to Louisiana. Reports filed from Tampa, Clearwater and St. Petersburg show a very low infection rate so the troops aren’t needed there."
The Army Chief of Staff called out a list of bases in Georgia and Texas where the troops from McDill were needed, while his aides took notes. In minutes, locations and troop strength movements were confirmed.
The Chairman gave the order, "Redeploy them starting tonight."
Clearwater, Florida:
Heather Johansen ignored the smell of blood coming from the back seat of her patrol car as she entered the parking lot of Clearwater High School. She had just completed her fifth run to the hospital, and now she was back to ferry more wounded from the supposed safe zone. It was the city’s first major disaster area from the zombie apocalypse.
Because of a shortage of manpower, the refugee center had been set up on the high school's football field right across from the quarantine area. This way, the National Guard wouldn’t have to split their forces to cover two separate areas. Initially, the plan to combine the facilities had run like a well-oiled machine, and having been informed of the location of this clear zone on television and radio, people had been flooding in all day. The evacuees were first examined by a doctor to see if they were at risk of exposure to the HWNW virus, and if negative, were fed and assigned a cot in one of the large tents erected for this purpose on the home side of the football field. If positive, they were still fed but were assigned a cot in one of the large tents on the visitors' side of the field. Here, they were kept under observation. The only thing separating the two areas was a grass strip manned by a handful of National Guard troops.
Those on the visitors’ side had to be quarantined for a minimum of twenty-four hours. As most of them were slight risks, usually having scratches or sores that could have been caused by any number of things and those who had an elevated temperature, it was now falsely believed a slight fever was a symptom of exposure, the confinement was brief.
The high-risk cases were segregated in the school’s gymnasium and kept under close scrutiny by taser wielding Clearwater Police officers. The high-risks were people showing evidence of human bites or infected scratches. Since nine o'clock that morning when the quarantine zone opened, twenty-two people had turned and been put down by the police officers in the gym.
As darkness fell, a large portion of the troops stationed at the high school went out to patrol the streets for curfew violators and looters, leaving only a skeleton crew to patrol the safe zone. Up until then, a walkthrough of the quarantine tents had been performed every fifteen minutes. With the reduction in forces, that now changed to
every hour.
A private named Harry Bronson had just come on duty and entered tent one to perform his rounds when he was attacked by three of the low-risk cases who had all died and came back within a few minutes of each other.
Tent one was dimly lit and the least populated of the four quarantine areas, so initially the attack went unnoticed. This was aided by the fact that many of those sent to the QZ had been given tranquilizers by the medical staff to keep them from acting out. Most were in a deep sleep. With a smorgasbord set out before them, the dead started a feeding frenzy on the twenty-eight people in tent one. Seven were killed before one of the refugees came out of her drug-induced stupor, and when she saw those around her being eaten, started screaming. This alerted those inside and out that something was amiss.
The dead lashed out with teeth and nails at the living as they woke up and tried to get away, trampling a five year old who had been separated from her mother in the chaos.
Eight of those wounded from the attack fled across the field seeking shelter on the home side of the field while the National Guard rushed in to stop the dead.
Gunshots rang out as the soldiers disposed of the living dead who continued to feast on those unlucky enough not to escape tent one. When they were finished, the troops had put down the original three zombies along with everyone they saw that had been bitten or scratched.
Eventually they got the situation under control but no head count was taken. No one realized that eight people were missing until more screams started to come from tents on the home side of the field.
One after another, three tents erupted in riot as the infected that had fled tent one died and came back to feast on the living. The Guard troops rushed in but were too few in number to regain control of the situation. Someone had the presence of mind to turn on the huge lights that ringed the football field but these took time to reach their full brightness. As the illumination slowly grew, it revealed a scene from hell.
The dead chased the living in and around the tents, sometimes stopping and turning on an older person or a child who were easier to catch. They would eat until that person died and then move on to the next meal. With so much fresh meat available, the undead did not waste time dining on the truly dead.
The few soldiers on duty were quickly isolated from each other as they tried to regain control of the football field. Uninfected people swarmed them, seeking safety and hampering their efforts to put down the dead. The infection spread rampantly as those who had been bitten succumbed to death and soon came back as the undead.
The Lieutenant left in charge of the area radioed for the patrols to come back as he saw the situation spiraling out of control. From his perch in the announcer’s booth high up in the grandstands that circled the field, he could count fewer than ten of his men left below. Even as he watched, one soldier was attacked by a zombie who proceeded to rip the doomed man’s ear off with its teeth while another of the living dead grappled with a Guardsmen on the fifty yard line.
An idea struck him so he turned on the microphone attached to the PA system. During the day they used it to make announcements such as chow times and shower schedules, but as darkness fell, they turned it off so as not to disturb those trying to sleep in the tents below.
Feedback whined, which let the Lieutenant know the system was working. He instantly started issuing orders. Knowing that the dead wouldn't heed his voice, he called out to the living, "Everybody down. Everybody down, civilians get down on the ground, now. Troopers, open fire on everything standing."
He repeated the message over and over as the civilians hugged the ground and his men were given clear shots at the dead. Some of the living didn't heed the warning to drop and were shot by mistake but these were few in number. The majority huddled in fear as the National Guard troops, now given a clear field of fire, proceeded to decimate the living dead who lurched and stumbled around. When the initial fusillade had dropped the zombies in clear view, the Guardsmen could then move about and fire into the heads of those crouched over their meals.
By the time the first of the patrols arrived back at the high school, the living dead had all been dispatched but confusion still reigned.
Wounded cried out for aid as they lay scattered about on the grass. The lucky ones had been hit by gunfire and the Army medical staff, which had rushed from the school, tended to these wounds. Those less fortunate, meaning those who showed clear signs of having been bitten or had open wounds that had come into contact with infected body fluid, were dispatched on the spot by a bullet to the brain stem.
Calls went to Police, Fire and EMT units, ordering them to start ferrying the wounded to local hospitals. When Heather first came upon the scene it was a madhouse. A line of vehicles was backed up onto Gulf to Bay Boulevard in both directions from the parking area as emergency aid flowed toward the disaster area. Stuck in line, Heather saw that the soldiers had cordoned off the football field and would let none of the civilians leave until they had completely undressed and were examined for signs of infected wounds.
She watched as one middle-aged lady stood naked, shaking with fear while a doctor examined her. Two armed National Guard soldiers waited a few feet away, keeping a close eye on the proceedings.
After studying a bloody mark on the woman's shoulder, the doctor suddenly straightened and backed away, gesturing toward his patient as he spoke to the nearest armed guard.
A look of horror spread over the woman's features and she started to plead for her life. Both soldiers shouldered their rifles, taking aim at her. She turned to run but was stopped short as two bullets crashed into her head, dropping her in her tracks.
In shock from witnessing the execution, Heather’s mind told her that she just seen murder committed. Her training took over as she reached for her pistol but was stopped short when someone knocked loudly on the front windshield of her car.
Jerking her head around, she locked eyes with a Clearwater Police Officer standing by the side of her cruiser. What he was saying didn't register at first.
Seeing the wild-eyed look on Heather's face, the cop slowly repeated what he had said, "She was infected. They had no choice and she had no chance. She got a death sentence the moment she was bitten. Tighten up Deputy, because that's what we have to do to try and keep this thing under control." He paused to let the words sink in before asking, "You gonna make it, girl?"
Heather saw the harsh reality of the unreal situation in a flash. Tightening her jaw, she nodded.
The cop gave her an encouraging smile saying, "Then move up. You're blocking traffic."
Heather looked forward and saw that, while she had been engrossed in the scene with the woman, the line waiting to enter the parking lot had left her behind. Her ears suddenly registered impatient horns beeping at her from the rear so she let her foot off the brake and idled forward.
As she pulled away from the Clearwater cop, she heard him call to her, "They're issuing M-16's to all road patrols. You might think about getting one."
Heather followed the traffic snaking into the parking lot as she decided that getting an automatic rifle would be a good idea. No, scratch that. It would be a real fucking good idea. When she finally pulled up to the loading area, she asked the firemen directing vehicles where she could get one. Instead of answering, he stepped aside as a Guardsman opened the rear doors of her cruiser and helped two wounded civilians into the back seat.
One was bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound to the neck and seemed unconscious. The other had bandages covering her face which she kept reaching up tentatively to touch before jerking her hands away in pain.
The fireman bent down to Heather’s window and said, "These are priority and they're clean. No infection." He reached inside and rapped the cage separating the front and back with his knuckles before adding, "This'll keep you safe anyways."
"M-16," Heather said. "Where do I get one?"
"Next trip. When you come back, go to the gymnasium."
Heather nodded and
accelerated away.
Now, on what would be her sixth trip to the high school, she had yet to receive the additional weapon. She had her police issued handgun and shotgun, but the idea of having an M-16 in her possession gave her a better sense of security. She knew the pistol and shotgun would get the job done but were only accurate at close range. She had qualified with the M-16 assault rifle and knew she could put a round in the bull’s eye from three hundred feet away. The way things were breaking down, it was only a matter of time before she had to shoot one of them and it would be better to do it from a distance.
As she turned into the parking lot, the wind shifted and Heather almost gagged at the sweet, cloying stink that blew her way. Recognizing the smell of burning flesh, she pulled her t-shirt up from under her shirt and Kevlar vest to cover her nose and mouth.
They had told her on her last trip that they would be disposing of the bodies. She assumed that meant they would be burying them.
As younger people were fond of saying: Not!
The group of Guardsman and firemen who had been loading the wounded were gone and were replaced by a lone Clearwater cop standing on the sidewalk waving her on while saying, "We’re done, go back to your regular patrol."
Recognizing him as the officer who had originally told her about the M-16's, she pulled her car into a parking spot and got out. She was surprised when the Clearwater cop smiled and called out a greeting after recognizing her. With all the people moving through here tonight, she just assumed she was one more face in the crowd.
"What's going on?" He asked, "You keepin' it together? Thought you were gonna draw down on those soldier boys earlier."
Smiling self consciously, she replied, "Naw, I got my shit wired together now. It’s a little much to take at first."
For Heather this was true. Still being fairly new on the Sheriff’s Department, for the past few days she had been sent out on calls that were routine, while the veteran officers were sent on the more dangerous runs. She had listened closely as they talked about encounters with the undead and how they were dealt with and wondered how she would react in a similar situation. Now it looked like she would get a chance to find out.
