Hell happened (Book 2): Hell Revisited

by Terry Stenzelbarton

  Chapter 3

  A year before Armageddon, 1st Lt. Cheryl Paxton became the new assistant command information officer assigned to the public affairs office for a combat division home based at Ft. Stewart, GA. She’d arrived there with a clean record after attending an eight-week course of study at Ft. Meade, Maryland. She was excited about being in charge of the community relations side of the Public Affairs Office.

  Cheryl was less excited about it four months later. She found her job boring. She wrote articles for the community newspaper, spoke at lunches with local companies, attended formal evening parties for local politicians.

  None of it she found fun. There was no spice in her life and when she wasn’t working, she was attending officer enrichment classes and fulfilling other military responsibilities.

  It was not the fun life for which she’d been longing; instead it was the same monotonous drudgery week after week.

  The Public Affairs Officer, Maj. Bob D. MacKenzie, was a gregarious and jovial leader. Everyone in the office liked him because he led with flair and energy. The command group of the division liked him because he was smart, had a sharp wit and writing talent, while the PAO staff respected him because he knew how to train them to be better public affairs specialists.

  Cheryl liked him too, at first, before she found out he was also a man who was serious about training his junior officers.

  He was there to train her and teach her, not let her run rough shod over his office. She forgot that and she paid for her mistake.

  She recalled with perfect clarity her fall. He’d called her in his office just before the end of the work day. She knocked and looked in to his office. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “Yes, come in,” he said, not looking up from the laptop on which he was typing furiously with two fingers. Cheryl felt comfortable around the major. He wasn’t a hard-ass like the instructors at OCS, but more laid back and fatherly to all in the office, from his assistant PAO to the lowest private.

  “Please close the door,” he said quietly. He didn’t look up from what he was typing. She closed the door, thinking maybe he had a special assignment for her. His was watching his fingers, then looking up to make sure he’d correctly spelled what he thought he typed.

  Cheryl closed the door a little too loudly and giggled when the major looked up. “Sorry,” she apologized and smiled the smile that would make some men willingly walk into hell’s fire.

  He looked back to his typing so Cheryl walked over to the major’s “brag wall” where he had awards for his writing, leadership and service. She’d been called into his office before and he’d counseled her how she could better serve the office. He was always friendly and helpful and always informal.

  In a voice that was both quiet and stern, he said without looking up from his work, “Lieutenant, when you to report to me, you will report at the position of attention in front of my desk and you will stand there until I tell you differently.”

  There was a brief pause as it sunk in and an icy chill worked its way through the office. She moved smartly to stand in front of his desk at the position of attention. “Lieutenant Paxton, reporting as ordered, sir,” she said, wondering what she’d been caught doing wrong.

  The major finished his writing a long minute later and closed the laptop’s cover and looked straight at her. “Lieutenant, I am displeased with your performance. You are here as the community relations officer and in the past 12 days I have received reports from two of our local vendors that you have neglected your duties, instead ordering one of the enlisted personnel to do jobs for which I made you personally responsible.”

  Cheryl had made plans to spend a weekend at the ocean with a lieutenant colonel from G-2, but one of the local suppliers wanted a representative from the division for their annual party. Cheryl sent frumpy SSgt. Hines. A week later, another supplier had an employee accepted to West Point and wanted to have someone from the division on hand for the presentation. Cheryl thought it sounded boring so, again, ordered Hines to do it.

  “Sir, Hines wasn’t doing any…,” was all she got out before Maj. MacKenzie stood up with authority, his chair rolling to the wall behind him.

  Without raising his voice from conversational level, he leaned across his desk, both hands flat on the glass.

  “I did not give you permission to speak, lieutenant, so shut your face hole.” The temperature in the room dropped again for Cheryl. There was a bearing in the major’s voice she had never heard from anyone. It was a conviction that he was right, and Cheryl was wrong and he had all the power.

  “Staff Sergeant Hines is one of the finest NCOs I have ever had the privilege with whom to serve. You have done nothing but drop shit jobs on her that were your responsibility.

  “I’ve also heard your comments about her looking like ‘Mrs. Potatohead’ to the other officers here, and you’ve treated her like she’s your personal labor force. These actions are unacceptable.

  “She is ten times the asset you are and if you could see past your own self-aggrandizing, you’d see how valuable a soldier she is to everyone in this office.

  “No one takes advantage of my soldiers and my staff, especially some lazy-assed lieutenant who thinks she’s got more important things to do than her job.” The major kept a steady stare into Cheryl’s left eye. He wasn’t flinching, nor giving her a chance to find a way to talk herself out of the mess she’d gotten in to. “From this day, no, from this minute forward, lieutenant, you will carry out the orders I gave you the first day you arrived.

  “You will carry those duties out correctly and effectively or you will find out how much of a hard-ass I can be. The Army owns you 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and that means I own you 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”

  He straightened up from leaning across the desk. He wasn’t a tall man, but his confidence and authority filled the room. He wasn’t sure he was getting through to her. “I’ve seen officers like you ruin good soldiers, but I will not let you ruin the soldiers under my command.” He reached for the sheet of paper that had been spit from his printer. It was a record of Cheryl’s actions and the major’s corrective action. He let her read it.

  “I am forwarding a copy of this conversation to your company commander and requesting a letter of reprimand be placed in your personnel jacket….”

  Cheryl tuned out with his last sentence. A letter of reprimand in her personnel jacket would probably keep her from any command positions. He had just ruined her career and he was doing it because of frumpy old SSgt. Hines.

  She heard the major dismissed her and she went back to her office. There were no tears, no recriminations and no self-motivational speeches on improving herself.

  Instead she was plotting ways to get even with SSgt. Hines and Maj. MacKenzie. They couldn’t get away with treating her like this and she wouldn’t stand for it.

  In the following weeks, Cheryl did the work she was assigned, without enthusiasm, but with just enough effort to keep MacKenzie off her ass.

  To destroy Hines’ life, she had an affair with Hines’s husband, not because he was handsome, but because it would drive Leena to tears. Which it did. Cheryl laughed in her face, then in the face of Hines’ husband. She didn’t care about them except to ruin their lives.

  When Maj. MacKenzie called her in his office about the alleged affair, Cheryl was prepared and told him of sexual harassment complaint she was going to file against him, something the Army took very seriously.

  She told him the stories she had made up, with times of when the two of them were alone in the office which would be borne out by the sign-in logs or witnesses, along with some other evidence she’d manufactured, and how the major had offered to “help” her career in exchange for sexual favors.

  She’d set him up to ruin his military career, and even if she couldn’t prove them, the allegations would be on his record.

  MacKenzie smiled at her and picked up the phone to dial the MPs. Cheryl leaned over his desk just as
he’d done to her and told him not to try and bluff her. He turned his laptop around and she saw that he was recording every word she had said.

  Her military career ended after a brief court martial and three months incarceration. At 25 years old, her military career was over with a dishonorable discharge, reduction in rank to E-1, forfeiture of two-thirds pay and allowances and a criminal record. Cheryl knew what she’d done wrong -- she hadn’t given friendly old Maj. MacKenzie credit for being smarter than her.

  She vowed that mistake wouldn’t happen again.

  From there, it was a series of failed relationships over the next six months before she knocked a man’s teeth out at a bar and was sent to the county lock up for 30 days.

  Then the world ended and everyone in her past, except her brother, was probably dead. She could start clean on her terms and her brother, two years her junior, did everything his big sister told him. They found a few others still alive and formed a gang, with Cheryl in charge.

  Anyone who wasn’t with them was against them.

  If they didn’t like following Cheryl’s rules, they became bait for the zombies.

  * * *

  Randy came out of his unconscious state shortly before three in the morning. He groaned slightly and Katie, who was sitting watch, reached over to wipe his mouth.

  “Easy there, Randy, you’ve got a nasty bump on your skull,” she told him. She reached over and woke Sara who was sleeping on the floor, acting as Katie’s aid. “Go wake up Kellie,” she told the twin. The little girl did and gently helped Kellie sit up in bed. She got water for both of the patients and helped Kellie drink while Katie helped Randy.

  “Wha’ ‘appen’?” Randy asked, feeling his missing teeth.

  “Don’t you remember?” asked Kellie softly.

  Randy thought for a minute, concentrating as best he could. He then shook his head. “Las’ I rem’m’er,” he said slowly, “I wa’ hel’ing ‘anny, I ‘ink. I ha’ a ‘ad ‘eadache.” He reached up and touched the bump on the back of his head, then bandages on his nose and finally his teeth. “Oh ‘od, wha’ ‘appen’ ‘o me?” he asked again then started crying. He also felt a bruise in his crotch, but he wasn’t going to feel it with two women and a young girl right there.

  Katie touched his arm softly. “You were hurt, but you’re going to be okay,” she comforted him. “Try to sleep now, sweetie. You need your rest and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

  Randy didn’t notice that Danny and Kellie were lying next to him, he just closed his eyes. Katie saw the young man run his tongue over his missing teeth for a moment then slip off into a deep sleep. Katie looked at Kellie. “That’s a good sign,” she mouthed and for the first time that evening, Kellie felt the load of the world lift slightly from her chest.

  Kellie couldn’t sleep any more and had Sara bring her the tablet she used when she couldn’t be at her computer. She did a lot of typing. She typed an entire page before she realized her headache had receded to a dull ache.

  * * *

  Jerry unknowingly woke up at about the same time as his son back on the farm. The bus drove off interstate bypass 459 onto I-20, having to leave the road because of the interchange being totally collapsed. He’d gotten two good hours of sleep. He sat up just as the bus was accelerating. Juan was still driving and looking extremely happy to be doing so. The two American astronauts were in the front talking quietly with him.

  The female Canadian astronaut was writing her thoughts down on a note pad.

  Things seemed to be going well. He looked at his watch, then out the front window. He recognized their location and figured at least another 20 minutes before they could make radio contact. He was excited to get back to the shelter. He missed his son and Kellie and the others who had become special to him. Despite the hell they’d experienced with all the death, the zombies, the vigilantes and the weather, he was happy on his farm. He looked forward to expanding the living space over the winter when there was less farm work to do and more time for building.

  He mentally made plans to build another windmill and water wheel generator for the shelter. He was sure he would find more batteries for his power grid so he could expand power distribution. He also needed to dig another septic system, and a place to bury garbage. Those would be big projects to keep people busy. They’d need more fuel, mostly diesel, for the tractors. More seeds for plants and a bigger garden. With all the people they had, they could use more of everything.

  Lost in his own thoughts, he was caught unprepared when Juan hit the brakes of the big bus. Jerry fell off the bed, but quickly scrambled to his feet. Juan had unbuckled from his seat and was headed for the door. “Hurry,” he encouraged Jerry.

  From the vehicle behind them, Eddie was already getting out of the SWAT truck even as Monica was bringing it to a halt.

  Juan was out the door without his gun, but Jerry took the time to grab one of the AR-15s before leaving the bus. The Ford had stopped in the highway in front of them. Rusty had been driving on point for the convoy.

  He was now leaning into a car that had cashed on its side against the median barrier, its motor still smoking from the recent crash. He was reaching inside the Volvo, trying to pull someone out of the driver’s door. Jerry handed the AR to Monica and pulled Eddie along with him as they ran up to help Rusty.

  “Move the bus so we have more lights over here,” Rusty yelled to Juan. The bus had three times as many lights on the front as the old Ford and Juan understood immediately. He ran back to the bus and a moment later, everyone at the car could see like it was daytime.

  Rusty gripped a woman’s hand and arm, holding her from flopping onto the passenger side of the car and onto the dead man who still had blood flowing from his ears and nose. She’d obviously been the driver and he the passenger. Jerry jumped on the car and got the back door open after Eddie got it to unlock. Eddie jumped inside and used his knife to cut the woman’s seat belt and helped Jerry and Rusty get the woman out.

  She was unconscious and very pregnant. They carefully carried her to the bus where Astronaut Kayla Schaeffer of the Canadian Space Agency took over.

  “Let’s go, Juan,” Jerry told the driver of the bus. “I’ll be in the Ford. Saddle up everyone and let’s get home!” He ran from the bus to his truck and got the convoy moving again. He didn’t know why a pregnant woman was driving at this hour on this highway, but if she was as far along as he suspected, he knew why she crashed. He didn’t give anymore thought to the man they left in the car. His time on earth had come to an end.

  Ten minutes later, after getting back on the road, they were pulling off I-20 and getting on local roads, he heard a voice on the CB. “Come in Mr. Saunders. Can you hear me?” It was the voice of a young girl, but he didn’t know which one.

  “This is Jerry, come in. Who is this?”

  “This is Sara. Lemme get Kellie. She wants to talk to you.”

  Jerry waited, wondering why the little girl was up so late. He looked at the clock on the dash which said 5:34 a.m. He wondered why the little girl was up so early. He’d been on the road for more than 25 hours with a little over five hours of sleep, three on the way down and two from which he just woke.

  “Jerry this is Kellie, come in.”

  “This is Jerry. What’s up Kellie? We’re seven miles away and I got that souvenir you wanted.”

  “We’ve had a problem here, Jerry, but everyone is alive and doing a lot better. Randy, Danny and I were all injured,” she didn’t want to say wounded. “I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.”

  “Was it zombies,” he asked her, “or vigilantes?”

  “It was one vigilante and it’s my fault. But we’ll tell you everything that happened when you get here. I just wanted you to know everyone here is alive and doing better.” He voice sounded weak and different. It didn’t have the sultry, husky timber it usually had. She didn’t want him to ask her for any more details so she ended the conversation. “Kellie out.” He called back twice, but
she didn’t answer.

  Jerry was left to worry about what had happened for the final 20 minutes of the drive. The worrying was interrupted when Monica, who had stayed with the crash victim, along with the Canadian astronaut, called him on the walkie-talkie from the bus. “We got the baby, Mr. Saunders,” Monica told him, “but the woman just died. There was nothing we could do.”

  * * *

  Cheryl’s crew had done well with stocking their hideout, but three were killed on a raid of a food store. They’d captured two strangers who were used as bait, but someone came looking for them and rescued them right under the noses of her team. Five people were killed that day, one at the light post, blown to hell by a grenade, the drug addict whose neck got broken by being stepped on, and three from bullets from the rifle of one of the rescuers. Her crew had been wrecked by locals with no military training and she wasn’t going to have that.

  Cheryl had made a tactical error attacking Jerry’s shelter by sending Cooley and Martha to the farm first after the owner and others had left. She should have known that stupid bastard Cooley would shoot first, which he did. When she, her brother and another guy who was also former Army, went to the shelter’s door, she thought they’d frighten whoever was left into giving up. She hadn’t expected the door to explode, killing her brother and injuring the other former Army soldier and herself.

  It went from bad to worse when the guy who was still struggling with getting a grenade through the hole in the door was shot in the head. The man fell and the grenade rolled away from him with its pin still in.

  Cheryl struggled away from the door, glad she had given her gun to her brother. She was hurt, but was treated by a heavyset lady, younger than herself. She knew she had made a mistake and didn’t know how she was going to get out of it.

  She was locked up in a cattle barn and remained that way for days. She had no way she could see of getting free until the boy-man Randy started fawning on her. That’s when she started building her story that she used on his dad and his girlfriend. If it hadn’t been for the girlfriend, Cheryl might have convinced both men she was a victim. Cheryl saw that Kellie didn’t believe her so she began really working on getting Randy to do as she wanted him.