by John Holmes
It was never going to be the same America, though. Boston was a glowing crater. Los Angeles, well, nothing lived there after neutron bombs had scoured everything. Nothing except a few million radioactive zombies. Reno had been leveled by conventional explosives. Millions of undead still stumbled their way through Hell. Most not far from where they had turned, but many still roaming the countryside, seeking live flesh.
In the big world, only England and other island nations still functioned. We fought, though. A vaccination had been developed last year, and armored columns were moving through Europe, seeking survivors and resources. The combined Free World Navies, led by the US navy and Marine Corps, raided the coasts and cleared cities one by one.
I didn’t see the point though. The world population was less two hundred million now. We didn’t NEED those cities, and years of no maintenance, combined with the effects of the fighting at the outbreak, and indiscriminate use of nuclear weapons by Russia and China had wrought destruction worldwide. That and environmental devastation from broken pipelines and destroyed refineries, combined with millions of rotting bodies had made most settled areas death traps for the survivors. The Gulf Coast of America had burned for a long time, oil wells pumping into the sea until the Navy has nuked them shut.
The Federal Government was still acting under Emergency Powers and Martial Law. The Constitution had been suspended, and despite being promised, elections weren’t anywhere being close to being held. The riots we had seen two years ago when were last in Seattle had gotten worse, and Homeland Security troops had forced a dusk to dawn curfew. Most of those forty million lived in crowded refugee camps, working in arms factories, or resettled towns, growing crops on FEMA farms. Acting President Taylor ruled with an iron fist by controlling the food supply. Any refugee camp that rebelled had its food cut off.
Which brought my thoughts back to the present. Colonel Scarletti, and whatever other top brass e was conspiring with, played a very dangerous game, which could see them all placed up against a wall and shot. Matter of fact, it could see us ALL put up against a wall and shot. Brit slowed down her pace to walk beside me and voiced my very thoughts. Her pale skin wrinkled in concern, and she twisted a lock of red hair on her long braid as she walked.
“You know, Nick, this is some serious bullshit we’ve gotten into. You know if Scarletti thinks it mission necessary, he’ll ice us. That is one cold bastard. “
I gripped the stock of my rifle a little harder. I had a family again, and I had to keep them out of danger.
“Agreed. Unfortunately, he has us over a barrel. If we get the job done, though, he’ll honor his word. Destroy the tape. He’s just doing what he thinks is best for the country. Sic Semper Tyranus, or whatever.”
She reached over and took my arm. “Just promise me, once this is done, we settle down and have a house with a white picket fence, and our guns are hung up over the fire place. I want five more kids and to grow old with you. Or older. I forgot you were pushing seventy.”
“Suck it, soul stealing ginger” I laughed.
“You wish, pegleg.”
Chapter 14
The town came into view as we walked down Route 2. It was sort of how I remembered it, but there were several new buildings, and the older ones had their first floor entrances and windows bricked up. Ladders led to the second floors, and each building had defensive parapets along the edges. Each building was itself a fortress, with a water cistern on the roof. Around the little hamlet was a cleared free fire zone, out to two hundred meters.
“Nice defenses. Hard to crack” said Ziv.
I agreed. “Not hard for an armored company, or one with air support.” I said it loud enough for Captain Houseman to hear as he walked in front of us. He turned and walked backwards, glaring at me, then turned back and kept striding forward.
“I don’t think he liked that, Nick.” Red was walking slightly behind us.
“I don’t particularly care what he likes. I’m not here to talk to him.”
In front of us, a lone figure stood, just at the junction of 2 and 22. He waited patiently as we came up, standing with his hands folded behind his back. It was a figure I knew well from television and the internet. Vice President Chris Epson, just sworn in before the zombie apocalypse. I figured I’d get this started off on the right foot.
I walked up and saluted. “President Epson. Sergeant Major Agostine, United States Army.” I held the salute, and an uncomfortable few seconds passed before he half-heartedly returned it. I dropped my salute and waited.
“Sergeant Major. You can drop the President thing. I’m just Mayor Epson now. The troops call me Colonel, but that’s more of an honorary thing, I guess. Come, walk with me.”
We walked towards the town for a bit, in silence. He made a gesture, and the troops fell back. My team fell back with them, giving us some space to talk. I waited for him to open the conversation, which he did in short order.
“I knew you would be coming for me. We still get internet, and follow the news.”
I didn’t say anything, merely continued to walk with him, looking at the town. Around it were fields of corn and other vegetables, still short this time of year. People were running tractors, and kids were chasing crows away from the young plants. I liked this place. Sort of homey.
“The answer” he said after a pause “is no. Absolutely not.”
Like Jack Reacher, I said nothing. Merely met the man talk.
“Sergeant Major, how long have you been serving your country?”
I thought back. “Eleven years before the Apocalypse. Four years after that so far. Retired twice. No, three times if you count leaving active duty.”
“Well, I did twenty two years. The first Gulf War, Bosnia, Kosovo, Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan multiple times. Then Congress, and I got drafted to be running mate for a man I didn’t particularly like. All for love of country. And I’m done. No more.”
We walked a bit more before I answered him. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
He smiled and launched into a description of what they had done to secure the town, how they lived through the hordes of refugees and then zombies, then the cannibal attack last year. I let him ramble on for a minute, then interrupted him.
“Pretty damn selfish of you.” He stopped in the middle of his speech and didn’t look at me. “Here you are, sitting pretty, and you know what’s going on in the rest of the country. I could forgive you, if you had no idea what was going on. You know, though, what Acting President Taylor has been doing. Martial Law, suspending the Constitution. He’s a dictator in all but name. Thousands of Homeland Security troops, riots, concentration camps.”
I stopped walking and faced him. I was getting angry at the thought of what was happening to my country. “See my limp? How I walk? I lost a leg fighting for this. See that redhead back there?” I pointed to Brit, who was talking to a big, studly looking guy. “That’s my wife. Our son is back home at our farm, and we are out here risking our necks, for some stupid piece of paper that I swore an oath to. The same one YOU swore to.”
He didn’t look at me, just looked out over the fields. He did answer me, though. “Is it really that bad? We only see what comes through the news, or what we read about on the net. You’ve been west. Tell me about it.”
I did. I told him about the camps, including the one we had been at two years ago. I described the riots in Seattle, the battles with zombies outside Denver, everything we had seen. “You know we have a vaccine now for the plague, right?”
He nodded. “We secured one of the airdropped packages six months ago. The whole town is vaccinated now.”
“And if you call for help, there is a Quick Reaction Airmobile company on call twenty minutes from here. Your people are safe, Mister President. Well, your people here, anyway. The rest of them are living under tyranny.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t go back into that cesspit. Besides, I can’t just say ‘surprise’ and walk into Seattle.”
“The Army will back you. I don’t know the details, I’m just the messenger, but high level officers are planning right now. I’m sure that when we get back to Albany, they will fill you in on the details.”
We resumed walking towards the town in silence. Unconsciously, like so many old soldiers, we fell in step. Left, right, left. I waited for him to speak again, but it took a long time. He finally stopped in front of the first building in town.
“The answer, Sergeant Major, is no. Seattle is pretty damn far away. Dictators come and dictators go. I served my time , and I’m done.” A look of exhaustion passed over his face. “Your team can stay for a while, rest and refit, but then you have to go.”
I sighed. “Fucking coward.”
His face immediately turned from exhaustion to anger. “What did you just call me?”
“I called you a coward. You sit here all pretty playing feudal lord and getting hero worshipped and shirk your responsibilities and your OATH!” I was getting angry now too. “Do you KNOW how many friends I have lost in the last four years? Good goddamned soldiers who died for their country!” I stuck out my empty knife hand and jabbed him in the chest with it.
He grabbed it and twisted it, then kicked out at my bad leg and took me down, following it up with a punch to my face. I pulled him down after me and tried to get a choke hold around his neck. The two of us rolled on the ground, punching and grappling.
Powerful hands pulled me off him, Ziv grabbing me by the harness and pulling me away. Brit screamed in my ear, “STOP YOU STUPID ASS!”. I heard bolts being snapped forward , rounds being chambered, and safeties clicking to FIRE.
I stood up and raised my hands. “OK, OK. Be cool!” Epson was being held back by a couple of his own guys, and a dozen weapons were being pointed between the two groups. Epson shrugged off his men and told them to stand down.
He walked over and glared at me. “I’m no coward, damn you. Take your team and get the fuck out of here.”
I reached into my breast pocket, under my armor, pulled out a scrap of cloth and threw it at his feet. He reached down and picked it up. He looked at the small American flag patch, covered with old, dried blood.
“I’ve got six more like it, and some that I wasn’t able to recover. You can keep that one. His name was Hernandez. He died in Utica.” I reached in and took out another one and started to throw it at him but stopped and looked at it.
“Jones. Gave his life to save mine. You can’t have that one. He was a better man than you.”
I turned away and started walking west. “Come on, let’s go” I told the rest of the team. I picked up my rifle from where it had fallen, saluted Epson, and walked away.
Chapter 15
“Why didn’t you just whip your dick out and piss on him?” said Brit as she walked beside me. Ziv laughed and she shot him an angry look. She was mad, through and through, and the whole team quickly decided to look for threats anywhere but in our direction.
“Sorry” I said, and kept walking.
“That’s it? SORRY? You just got into a wrestling match with the fucking President of the United States and you’re SORRY?” I could almost see her red hair moving around under her helmet, gathering up into tentacles to choke me.
“He got to me. I lost my shit.” I continued to walk, leaning into the uphill. She walked right along beside me and continued to berate me.
“Lost your shit? You could have gotten us all KILLED, for Christ’s sake. You were supposed to BRING HIM IN.”
I stopped in midstride and turned to face her. “Brit, I love you, but shut the fuck up. I am NOT goddamned perfect.” Her face went white under the dirt and sweat, and she turned away and took up position at the rear of our little column. We started walking again, climbing back up Route 2.
After a few minutes, Red dropped back to talk to me, motioning Bognaski to take point. We walked together in silence for a bit, then he spoke. “Pale face in heapum trouble with soul stealing squaw.”
I looked at him. He had a shit eating grin on his bronze features. “Seriously?” I said. He flashed white teeth and a grin, but then his smile faded.
“Look, Nick, I know you’re under a lot of pressure. How about we go back to Stillwater, take a week, and come back and try again? Maybe we can have Ziv talk to him next time.” I almost laughed at that. Probably a sure fire way to start a bloodbath.
I ran my gloved hand across my forehead, wiping away sweat that was running down my face, and considered it. It seemed like a good idea. I felt like shit inside, like something was going to snap. A break for a while … No way. Not with this murder thing hanging over our heads.
“Can’t do it, Red. One way of another we’ve gotta get this job done. I give a rat’s ass about the rest of the country, but I don’t need some snatch squad going after us some night. If Brit is mad at me, so be it. Better than her being hung by the neck.”
He kept walking, but put his hand on my shoulder. “You do what you gotta do, Nick. We’ve got your back, and she’ll come around. She loves you to death, and she’s scared shitless about what this is doing to you. Hell, if you want me to take over the team for a while, let me know.”
“I appreciate it the thought, but no.” Red had been with the team longest, besides Brit, and he was a good soldier, but it was MY team, and this was my task to do.
He shrugged, and said “So what are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to kill him.”
We had walked out of sight of the town, and as far as I could see, no one was coming after us. I gave a whistle, and motioned for Bognaski to lead the team off to the right, down the driveway of an abandoned home. I took over point and broke trial through the backyard, past a rusty swing set, always on the alert for zombies that might be hiding in the undergrowth.
We made our way sideways along the ridge for about a hundred meters, to a good spot overlooking the town. It was sheltered by trees, but I could see well enough through them. The town itself was about eight hundred meters away, a fairly long shot, but doable. I gathered the team around and briefed them on the plan.
“Things didn’t exactly as planned down there”
“No shit” interjected Brit. I ignored her and continued.
“So now we’re on Plan B. Ziv and I are going to go downhill and wait for an opportunity and I’m going to take him out. You know our orders. Ski, you’re coming too, to watch our back.”
They immediately started protesting all together at once, except Ziv. I told them all to shut it, and asked Ziv if he was OK with it. He laughed and said “Not my President”.
“We may be down there for a few days until I can take the shot. I would take you all, but the fewer people involved in this, the better for all of you. We’ll come back no later than twenty hundred each night. Keep your eye out for patrols and zombies. This will be our Rally Point, but you guys can go back to that house and camp out there. It’s far enough back from the road, but expect a patrol to check it out. Do NOT fight, run. Everyone got it? Staff Sergeant Redshirt is in charge until I we get back.”
I took Bognaski’s M-14 from him and handed him my M-4. I also took some trip flares to guard our position, give us advanced notice if anything was sneaking up on us. Then I took Brit aside. She stood there in front of me, not saying anything, and her eyes were wet with tears.
“I’m sorry. I lost it. I’ll be alright, soon as we get this done, we can go home.”
She sighed and said “Nick, you’re falling apart. Let’s just go home now.”
I brushed a stray lock of hair away from her blue eyes and said “We can’t, not yet. Almost done. See you in a bit.” Then I turned and walked into the brush, Ziv following me.
We found a place about fifty meters downhill to where the slope evened out, and low crawled another couple hundred meters closer to the town, but still up on a decent rise. A fallen log provided a good shooters perch, and we settled in. Ziv unpacked a spotter scope and I sighted the rifle on the first building, getting a
good sight picture, estimating the distance total to be just less than five hundred yards, using the preferred sniper unit of measurement.
“Ski, what is this set to?”
“I keep it at 400 yards.” I grunted and rotated the vertical adjustment a few clicks. At that range, the bullet would drop almost seventy inches, the height of an average man, and a properly zeroed scope made all the difference. Another thing they got wrong in the movies. You CANT just stick a scope on a gun and become super sniper. Bognaski fired hundreds of rounds a week to stay proficient and I should have let him shoot, but this was my job to do, not his. The air was steady in the July heat, no breeze to speak of in the valley. We were already sweating in the trees, and bugs started settling on us.
Ziv started scanning with his spotter scope, checking out the town. “Aer you sure you want to do this? I know how you suck at this type of shooting. I can shoot President, easy as pie, as you Americans say.”
I looked over the top of the rifle, trying to see any troop dispositions. Ziv would be looking for Epson with his wider angle scope, walking me onto the target. “No, Ziv, I have to do this myself.”
“Well, here you go. He is still standing where we left him. First building, just to right of doorway. Out in open.”
I put my cheek to the rifle and looked through the scope. Son of a bitch, there he was. I laid the crosshairs on his head, centering the crosshairs just to the right of his ear. I waited for him to move, but he stood there, looking into the distance, back up Route 2. He held perfectly still for a second, then turned to face north, looking up Route 22. As he turned, I could see down at the bottom of the scope that he still held in his hand the bloody flag patch I had thrown at him.
Now that I could see his face full on, I settled the scope just to the right of the center of the triangle formed by his eyes and nose. Before we had rolled out, each of the team had fired Bognaski’s rifle at distance targets, so we all could use it in a pinch. I knew my shot would be slightly off to the left at about this distance, so I corrected for it. I would have gone for a chest shot, but he might be wearing body armor. I tightened the stock into my shoulder, breathed out, and slowly squeezed the trigger.
