“This is it,” Rex said, and he dashed over and leapt onto the open gate of his truck to stand in the back. He craned his neck forward, squinting into the sweltering day. “Yes, that’s them. Trucks, ambulances, and at least three buses.”
Moe strode over to Rex’s truck and climbed in on his knees. His joints and hips weren’t what they used to be, and he knew better than to leap up like Rex had done.
“It’s not much,” Moe murmured, looking on. The trail of vehicles kicked up dust into the sky as they raced toward the encampment.
“That’s not all of them. Look at that.”
Moe glanced at Rex and saw that he’d turned his attention more eastward, looking out over the military camp into the desert beyond. A tremendous cloud rose up, blotting out the endless blue sky and engulfing the Chinle air strip. But it wasn’t a black cloud of toxic air. It was a dust cloud kicked up by hundreds of wheels flying across the desert and along Navajo Route 8181.
He spotted trucks, buses, motorcycles, four wheelers, and every mode of transportation imaginable. They were hell-bent for the FEMA encampment, and a dozen or more military vehicles were already racing out to greet them. Moe’s eyes scanned back and forth between the oncoming vehicles and the dozens of tents the FEMA people had prepared. While he couldn’t guess at the numbers approaching, it was in the hundreds. Maybe even thousands.
“That’s a tall order coming this way, my friend.” Moe said. As an Army Staff Sergeant, he knew a bit about logistics. He knew when two things didn’t add up, especially in military supplies and human resources.
Rex gaped. “I guess they couldn’t stop them at Window Rock and Gallup.”
“And if this is the first wave…” Moe let his words trail off as he shook his head. He didn’t want to say how bad it would get, but a rising unease started at the base of his spine and settled in his jaw, causing him to clench his teeth tight. It was the same eerie feeling he’d gotten whenever they were out on patrol in Iraq and were about to get hit.
“They’ll get run over,” Rex said.
“Yeah, they will,” Moe agreed. “We need to get reinforcements right away.”
“They don’t want us involved,” Rex protested. “Colonel Humphreys made that clear more than once.”
“If we don’t help them now,” Moe gave Rex a pointed look. "What do you think those refugees will do after they overrun the camp?”
“Overrun Chinle?”
“Exactly.”
While Rex waited for reinforcements from town, Moe sprinted across the street and looked for the first Staff Sergeant he could find. Everyone had gathered on the eastern most side of the FEMA encampment, waiting for the tide to roll in. The military jeeps in the field circled out to perform simple triage. He knew the triage folks would give the wounded QLOG tags to relay patient information to the support personnel waiting in camp.
Moe had left the military just after they’d adopted the QLOGS technology in the field. The program covered inventory, supply, medical triage, and even payroll if you wanted it to. He didn’t have a lot of experience with the software, but he’d learn.
Glancing over the groups of personnel waiting to take the first of the refugees in, Moe recognized a staff sergeant and pushed his way through the crowd.
“Staff Sergeant Moe Tsosie, reporting for duty, sir.” He saluted the tall, buzzed-cut young man and waited for an order.
The soldier took his eyes off the approaching vehicles and turned to Moe. His eyes did a quick scan, and Moe could already tell what he was thinking. Here was an older soldier who’d let his hair grow out over the years, and it was streaked with gray. And he’d let his body go, as evidenced by his round belly that didn’t quite hang over his belt.
“I’ve got five years’ experience in Iraq where my team maintained tanks and troop equipment,” Moe said. “I can help.”
“I don’t care what kind of experience you’ve got,” the man said. “You’re not in uniform, and you’re not part of my unit. So, get out of here.”
Moe glanced out at the approaching vehicles. “You’re about to get slammed with wounded, sir. Please, let me help.”
The sergeant leaned closer. “If you don’t get out of here, I’ll have you escorted out of the area forcibly, sir.” He glanced over at two soldiers armed with pistols, and one of them stepped toward the pair as if waiting for an order from the younger man.
Moe suppressed the urge to say something smart. This kid didn’t look like he could organize his laundry much less several hundred wounded about to storm the camp. Still, he was military, and he had to respect the order of things. He saluted the young man, turned on his heel, and walked back to the Speedway where Rex was bringing reinforcements from the gym.
Rex’s truck wasn’t on the corner, so Moe jogged to the nearest car and climbed up on the hood. Looking east across the encampment, he saw the first of the wounded reach camp. FEMA and the military support personnel began working down the lengthy line of wounded, carrying serious injuries to the center of camp. They took lighter injuries to the southwest side of the camp where workers were still setting up tents.
Moe winced and took a deep breath. It pained him to stand by and watch a potential disaster build up, yet he could do nothing but wait.
A half hour later, Rex pulled up with several other vehicles into the Speedway lot. People got out, and Moe met them at the back of Rex’s truck.
“Okay, introductions,” Rex said. He gestured to a stout woman with angular features and intelligent, hazel eyes. “This is Sage Denentdeel. She’s the Chief of Medicine at the Chinle Hospital. Sage, this is Moe.”
“You’re not from here are you, Miss Denentdeel?” Moe offered his hand.
Sage accepted his hand and dipped her head in greeting. “I was born in Many Farms but moved out west with my parents when I was a kid. I came back here three years ago. You?”
“Born and raised in Chinle,” Moe said with a gruff but friendly tone. “I’m an original, but I spent several years in the military before taking up the auspicious profession of truck driving. I got back into town a few days ago.”
“It’s good to meet you.” Sage’s eyes were genuine and expressive, and she bore a shock of gray in her shoulder-length black hair. She turned around and indicated a group of people behind her. “This is my hospital staff. We don’t have a lot to do just sitting at the school, so we’ll help in any way we can.”
“Thank you, Sage.”
Rex turned and gestured at a group of ten young men who ranged in age from fourteen to eighteen. They stood in a group around Rex’s truck looking sheepish.
“Who are these kids?” Moe asked
“This is the Chinle boys’ basketball team,” Rex said, grinning proudly.
Moe placed his hands on his hips and looked them over. “We’re not here to score bucket’s, Rex. They’re just kids.”
“Strong kids.” Rex lifted his chin. “Warriors, man. They heard me gathering doctors and hospital staff and their captain insisted I let them come.”
“Who’s the captain?”
A young man separated himself from the others and stood in front of him. “That would be me.”
“You’ve got to be the shortest basketball captain I’ve ever seen,” Moe quipped, but he was serious, too. The boy couldn’t have been taller than five-four. “What position do you play, son?”
The young man crossed his arms and stood his ground with fire in his eyes. “I’m the point guard. Senior. I averaged seven assists per game last season, and I’ve got good court vision.”
Moe had to give him credit, the kid didn’t back down. “What’s your name?”
“Josiah Cooper.”
“Josiah, can you keep these young men in line and make sure they do what I tell them?”
“I can do that,” Josiah nodded.
“All right.” Moe turned to Rex. “Looks like we’ve got the start of a great team here.”
“Do we go over now?” Rex asked, glancing nervously at t
he FEMA encampment’s swelling numbers.
“Not yet,” he replied. “The colonel doesn’t want civilians there. He thinks we’ll only get in the way.”
“You don’t think they’ll need us?”
“Oh, they’ll need us,” Moe nodded. “They just don’t know it yet.”
Chapter 18
Kim Shields, Yellow Springs, Ohio
Kim strode swiftly out of the lab area and down the magnificent garden path to the game room with Paul shuffling quickly behind her. She climbed the spiral staircase, two steps at a time, and stood in the greeting area to Paul’s underground kingdom.
She entered the decontamination chamber where she’d hung up her suit and pulled it from the rack. “You’re not stopping me?”
“Why would I?” Paul crinkled his eyebrows up, then he shrugged. “I know what’s at stake. Fiona could be the key to a cure. I have to admit, I’m eager to get a look at her blood.”
“But I’m not a soldier.”
“You seem capable enough to me,” Paul countered. “I’m just sad I can’t show you my slime mold collection.” Paul settled his hands on his hips and gave her an amused shake of his head.
“I’ll take a rain check.”
“Good enough.”
“My GPS says they’re in Zanesville.” Kim slipped one boot into her protective suit. Paul was a strange fellow, but she trusted his opinion, and she was happy he backed her. “It’s a two-hour trip taking the back roads, assuming they’re not blocked by wreckage and debris.”
“With a little luck, you’ll be back before noon.”
“With Fiona in hand,” Kim added with a determined grin as she slipped her arms into the suit, wincing as bruised ribs stretched.
Paul laughed boisterously. “And a cure in sight.”
“Are you going to be okay here?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’d go with you, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much use on an assault team. My knees aren’t what they used to be.”
“No. I mean, you mentioned earlier there were people snooping around the place. Can they get in?”
“It’s just two people.” Paul waved his hand. “And the only way they could get through my front door is with a pound of C-4.” Despite his confidence, Paul scratched his head and stared at the floor with a quizzical expression.
“What is it?” Kim asked, hesitating before she threw her suit’s hood over her head. Once she had that on, they’d communicate via radio.
“I guess one thing concerns me about the two in question. They wore good protective gear, and one of them carried a rifle.”
“You mean, they don’t seem like curious citizens with nothing better to do than bother an old scientist?”
“Right. No, these guys looked professional. They wore the type of protective gear you might see in the military.” Paul touched her suit. “Or like yours.”
“That doesn’t sound promising,” Kim admitted. “Did you call them?”
Paul nodded. “I sent an open channel message through my external speakers and received no reply. Maybe they were looking for shelter. One of them was injured.”
Kim froze. “Injured? How?”
“Well, they were limping around.”
“Like someone who got shot in the hip?”
“Now that you mention it, yes.”
“Do you have video of them?”
“One second.” Paul left the chamber and returned with the computer tablet he’d left in the kitchenette. He tapped an icon on the screen, scrolled through some files, and held up the tablet so Kim could see.
“This was taken about three hours before you arrived.”
Kim watched the screen as two people in black protective gear nosed around the mossy grove in Paul’s front yard. One of them limped from one of Paul’s venting units to his front door before running their fingers along the seams of the entrance as if looking for a way to pry it open.
Both men looked familiar.
“That’s Burke and Richtman,” Kim said, slumping.
“Burke Birkenhoff?”
“The one and only. King Jerk.” She stared at the screen in utter confusion. “But why on earth would they be here? Burke couldn’t have followed me. He must have gotten here first.”
“You said Burke tried to burn down the CDC facility,” Paul said. “Maybe he thinks I’m working on a cure, too.”
And even as ten reasons to doubt Paul’s logic entered Kim’s mind, she knew it was true. “Burke listened in on conversations between us and General Miller. He knows Miller’s strapped for resources.”
“So, General Miller might actually hunt him down?”
“He said he would,” Kim replied, though she wasn’t so sure. Her spirit deflated. “But he’s pretty pissed at me now. He might not be so helpful.”
If she went to Zanesville, Paul would have to defend himself against Burke. Yet, Jessie hadn’t sounded good on the phone earlier. If she didn’t rescue them, they’d never make it to Yellow Springs.
Paul stepped over to a handle set into the wall and pulled open a bin. He reached inside and retrieved Kim’s gun, placed it in his palm and presented it to her with a slight bow. “Your weapon, Lady Shields.”
Despite the dire seriousness of the situation, she couldn’t contain a grin. “You’re really into this fantasy stuff, aren’t you?”
“Since I was a kid.” Paul grinned wistfully. “Life wouldn’t be worth living if we never used our imagination to dream of bigger things. Now, go attend to your mission. I’ll await your return.”
Chapter 19
Randy and Jenny Tucker, Indianapolis, Indiana
“Let’s go, scavengers,” Corporal Ames’s voice called out. “Time to move!”
Randy groaned and rolled over on the mat Tricia had provided for them. It was a good inch of foam padding, though it didn’t compare to their comfortable couch back home.
Jenny blinked at him from her mat, still waking up as the voice continued to shout, joined by a chorus of other scavenger leaders getting their teams assembled for the day’s work. They’d placed Randy and Jenny in a group who lived inside the old airport bookstore. While the shelves remained intact, the military had cleared out the racks and counters to make more room for sleeping space.
“Come on, Jenny,” he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair before he rolled over and sat up. Others were still waking up, but many more were standing at attention next to their mats.
“I said, get up!” Ames shouted again, and he looked up to see Tricia dressed in full military garb with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Gone was her friendly countenance from yesterday, replaced with a soldier’s rude mannerisms.
The young corporal grabbed a kid no older than Randy by his arm and tried to jerk him to his feet. The kid slipped out of Tricia’s grasp, so she put her boot into his chest, drawing a cry from the kid as he went sprawling.
That’s when Randy understood why some in the group were already standing at attention beside their mats. They’d been around long enough to know the punishment for slacking.
The twins were in the back of the store and had a little time.
“I’m serious,” Randy hissed at his sister as he rose. “Get your butt up. Come on.”
Jenny had always been a heavy sleeper, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to lie in bed for hours on the weekends; however, the tone of his voice was enough to snap her eyes open and get her moving. She scrambled to her feet and stood beside him with her hair in a curly, red mess.
Once all the people in the bookstore were on their feet, Tricia backed up and looked at them with a critical eye.
“Now that I have your attention,” she said, “I’ll tell you what you’ll be doing today. It’s important that everyone plays a part in the Colony’s success. It’s important that you have a job that contributes to the Colony’s survival. Your job will be scavenging the vital supplies we need to survive and thrive in the new world.” The corporal’s head moved back and forth
as she spoke in a droning tone. She’d fully bought into Colonel Jergensen’s command structure despite the woman being sick.
And Randy couldn’t argue with what appeared to be working. Everyone was well-fed and rested. They got along in a structured way, and they had a plan to move forward.
Tricia continued. “That means you’ll be going out into the suburbs surrounding Indianapolis under my guidance. You may find yourself alone with abundant amounts of supplies. You may be tempted to take some things for yourself or hide them so you can retrieve them later. You may get all kinds of ideas. That’s why it’s important to remind you of the first question you should ask yourself when faced with such a dilemma. That question is, ‘Is this what’s best for the Colony?’ I trust that your decision will be the right one.”
Randy glanced at his sister to see she was mulling over the corporal’s words. He would have been chilled to hear them if they’d not spent the evening together before having dinner. Tricia had seemed friendly then, yet she’d transformed into an ultra-authoritative figure overnight. He supposed she was just doing her job.
“Now, follow me to gate thirty-one at the end of the terminal,” Tricia shouted. “Bring your clothing tags with you to pick up your street clothes. If you have any problems with your clothing or are missing anything, let your squad leader know.” Tricia gestured to three other soldiers who stood nearby. “I’ll call out teams. When you hear your name, please join up with your team leader and follow their instructions to the letter.”
Tricia began calling out names, and people filed in behind their squad leaders. Each squad had around ten people in them, split between men and women. Randy and Jenny were in Tricia’s squad, and he shot Jenny a hopeful smile.
Jenny gave a fake smile, saying, “This is crazy, brother.”
“Just go with it, Jenny,” Randy hissed. Had she expected the end of the world to be a pleasant romp in the park?
Tricia ushered them to the restrooms where they took care of their morning business before moving to the food court where they chose between granola bars, cold cereal and milk, oatmeal, or stale donuts. Randy chose a small box of Frosted Flakes, a half cup of milk, and black coffee.
Spore Series | Book 2 | Choke Page 11
