by Vohs, J. W.
The second soldier in the room called for her; he was a corporal from Texas named Billups. She found him on his knees, pulling boxes from a pile of clutter caused by several of the shelving units falling down. “Ma’am, all of these boxes are filled with morphine,” he excitedly explained. “How long does that stuff last?”
“I’m not sure . . .” she answered, her words cut short by a loud rustling noise from under the mound of boxes and shelves.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Just rats,” he absent-mindedly answered. “They’ve been rooting around in here since we walked in.”
Gracie focused the beam of her powerful flashlight on the mess just beyond the soldier. The bright light illuminated the scene, and Gracie’s warning died on her lips as her mind processed the scene. Billups had removed the glove from his right hand and pulled a small knife to cut the stout tape holding the lid of the box in place. In almost slow motion, long, white fingers reached up from under the pile and locked onto Billups’ hand. He was then jerked downward, a shrill scream escaping his lips. The cry of surprise almost instantly turned to one of fear and pain, and Gracie, training and experience leading to immediate action, slammed the blade of her halberd into the jumbled boxes next to where the hand had appeared.
The point of the weapon pierced something soft and giving, then Gracie felt the halberd shifting as whatever she had stabbed reacted to the assault. Billups yanked his arm free in a spray of blood as Okie reached the scene and began frantically kicking boxes aside as he searched for the creature his commander had pinned to the floor. Seconds later, the light from his helmet revealed a pair of dull-black orbs glaring at them from an emaciated, fish-belly-white face. The creature was hungrily chewing the flesh it had managed to tear from Billups’ hand, a low moan escaping its throat in reaction to the sight of nearby humans.
Gracie hadn’t seen an infected in this condition for months, but she knew what to do with it. Before Okie could react, Gracie jerked the spear-point of her halberd free of the shoulder it had struck and plunged the blade into the creature’s face. The monster shook for a brief moment before going still. The room was now glowing from the lights of the rest of the squad crowding in to see what was happening. Gracie shouted orders from behind the visor that she had pulled into place without realizing it. “Clear this damn room!”
She pushed the shaft of her halberd into Okie’s hands. “Keep that thing pinned down just in case I missed the brain.”
Next, she ordered two men to pull Billups from the room. As soon as the injured soldier was carried out into the open bay, Gracie ripped open the medical kit she had already removed from her pack. She used her knife to cut the sleeve of the leather coat away from Billups’ forearm, then tied a tourniquet above the savaged hand. Blood was already flowing in copious amounts, so she didn’t bother cutting through the wounds as Jack and Carter had done after Luke was bitten. Instead, she wrapped her hands tightly around the flesh below the tourniquet and repeatedly pushed down from the elbow to the wrist in an effort to prevent the virus from spreading to the body. Even more blood spurted from the bites, but Gracie was certain that what she was doing wasn’t going to work with the injuries Billups had sustained.
The careless soldier had been bitten at least three times near his thumb and forefinger, and all of the wounds were ragged tears where chunks of flesh had been ripped free. “Take off his helmet!” she shouted to one of the troops kneeling at her side.
Billups was in shock, no longer showing much sign of pain as Gracie forced blood toward the bites. “Can you hear me?” she loudly asked.
The stricken soldier nodded in reply. She cut the leather strap from his helmet and held it to his lips. “Bite down on this, hard!”
She looked to her left and saw Okie standing there. “I crushed its head to pulp,” he explained.
“Okay,” Gracie gulped. “Give me your axe and stretch his arm out.”
She saw Okie’s eyes fill with surprise and alarm as he shouted, “no!” For a brief second she thought he was yelling at her, but then she noticed that his eyes were focused over her shoulder. She whipped her head around to see that Billups wasn’t in as much shock as she’d thought. He had pulled a large-caliber revolver from a holster on his belt, and now had the weapon cocked and pointed at the side of his head.
“Sorry I got bit, ma’am, that was stupid of me,” he rasped.
“Billups,” she pleaded, “we might be able to save you—I’ve seen it done.”
He shook his head slightly, then pulled the trigger. The blast roared through the enclosed space, the flames from the heavy load lighting the bullet’s entry before Gracie could turn her eyes away. She heard the soldier next to her curse, and realized that Billups’ brains were probably splattered all over the woman’s armor. She bowed her head and tried to control her breathing; everything had happened so fast. But she had seen so much death over the past year that nothing could truly shock her anymore. She finally shook her helmeted head and slowly climbed to her feet. All eyes were on her; the squad would follow her lead.
“I’m sorry about your squad-mate,” she quietly stated. “Our mission is done for the day.” Nobody said a word in reply, so she continued. “We’ll come back here tomorrow and collect these supplies. Grab Billups and bring him out to the truck; we’ll bury him tonight.”
Will had fallen asleep lying back-to-back with his fellow alpha, their small packs crowded in around them. The combined group had run for hours in the snow, finally stopping at what had once been a prosperous cattle ranch. Even though the place had been thoroughly looted, and the major out-buildings had burned to the ground, the expansive property was still home to several heads of cattle and a few dozen feral pigs. The hunters had no trouble securing an ample supply of meat to feast on before Will led them into the house, away from the winter wind and snow, to rest.
The new alpha and his pack had followed Will’s lead easily, but the leader had repeatedly approached Will with the same odd sounds and gestures he’d offered when they first met. There was nothing aggressive in the strange alpha’s demeanor, nor did he seem to be making declarations of submission. Will’s headache had returned after he’d eaten his fill of fresh meat, and though he’d found his fellow hunter’s attempts at communication intriguing, his instincts had told him that he needed to rest.
“Daddy, push high!” the toddler squealed in delight.
Will grinned as he snapped several photos of the little girl in the blue and white star-covered miniature cheer uniform strapped securely in a safety-swing. She hammed it up for the camera, smiling and posing like a pro. “Now push high!” she ordered after growing impatient with the picture-taking.
“You think you can boss Daddy around?” Will teased, reaching over and tickling her tummy. Peals of cherubic laughter echoed through the playground. The sound was joyful and intoxicating, and it lingered as the image faded into darkness.
For once, Will awoke without a headache, and he felt rested and alert. He quietly extricated himself from the sleeping hunters piled around him and walked out on the covered porch to watch the sunrise. His mind was unusually calm—no unsettling memories or confusing thoughts hounded him yet this morning. He watched the sky, felt the cold, and listened to the wind with no thoughts at all until the other alpha climbed over his pack-mates and joined Will on the porch.
The alpha touched Will’s shoulder and made a strange sound. He then patted his own chest, and grunted a few syllables. He repeated this scenario several times, then looked at Will expectantly.
In a flash, Will understood what the alpha was doing. He pointed to himself and tried to form the sound he knew in his head, “W-w-lll.”
The creature listened carefully, then tapped Will’s chest. “Will,” it repeated in a low growl, “Will.” He tapped his own chest again, and rumbled some unfamiliar syllables.
The temporary peace Will had experienced was replaced by burning desire to communicate. He marveled at how the w
ords in his mind, such as “Will,” could be replicated in this way. Then he remembered the last time he’d consumed human flesh, how the men had cooed and barked at one another . . . That sounds like an animal to me . . . Will was startled to remember the words, more startled to know what they meant. For some reason, the memory made him angry. He pounded his own chest vigorously and spat, “Will.”
The other alpha took a few steps back, sensing Will’s rising aggression. His pack had arisen and stumbled out the front door together; sensing danger, they gathered around their leader, growling.
Will remembered the gesture the alpha had greeted him with the day before, and he extended his hand toward the assembled pack. The alpha was the only one who seemed to understand Will’s effort, and he silenced his pack with a snarl before reaching out for Will’s hand.
Luke arrived with the survivors from Texarkana soon after Gracie’s squad returned with their haul from the warehouse and Billups’ corpse. He knew something was wrong when his wife didn’t immediately want to greet the students and their teacher. He left the newcomers with Terry, with instructions to feed them and get them settled in a secured building. He promised to check on them as soon as he could before heading off to headquarters to speak with Gracie in person.
He found her on the radio with Maddy, who was assuring her that the rest of the troops would arrive within the hour. Gracie looked haggard, and there was an edge to her voice when she responded, “Just make sure you all get here before sunset—you don’t have an hour; you’ve got about forty minutes.”
Luke tried not to sound concerned, “Hey, babe, what’d you find today?”
“A bunch of outdated field supplies, but some decent tents and relatively intact winter gear. The fuel stoves were the best find, the injured hunter that bit one of my men was the worst.”
“Is he—“ Luke began.
“He’s dead—shot himself,” Gracie answered before Luke could finish his question. “It wasn’t that bad, a hand injury with heavy bleeding. I was going to bleed him out, maybe take off the hand . . .” her voice trailed off.
“It’s not your fault—”
Gracie cut him off again. “How do you know? You weren’t there, and I was in command.”
Luke took off his glasses and slumped in a chair. “So was it your fault?” he asked evenly. “Do you think things would have been different for me or Zach or Maddy?”
A few tears slipped down Gracie’s cheek. “Probably not—well, you might have sensed the injured hunter, but it all happened too damn fast for us normal humans.”
Luke reached out and pulled Gracie down into his lap. “I’m sorry, babe. What can I do for you?” Gracie buried her face in his shoulder and wept bitterly. He held her until the tears subsided.
“I’m sorry to be such a baby,” she said, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. “Don’t tell Maddy or Zach that I blubbered like a little girl.”
As if on cue, the radio crackled and Zach’s voice called out, “Hey, where’s our welcoming committee? You better not have started dinner without us.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got an expanded menu for dinner this evening,” Maddy said, playfully impersonating a server at a high-class restaurant with a terrible British accent. “May we start you out with an appetizer? We have crackers with either cheese spread or jalapeno cheese spread. For your entrée, we’re offering spaghetti, chicken and noodles, or beef brisket—all MREs of the highest quality.”
“And we’ll soon be adding pure, MRE fed rat meat to our daily specials,” Zach countered.
Gracie smiled to appease her friends—she knew they were trying to create a more lighthearted mood to lift her spirits. She’d seen plenty of people die, she’d lost loved ones and friends, but she’d never had anyone look her in the eye right before pulling a suicidal trigger. It was unnerving.
Luke understood what Gracie was feeling, and he knew that she needed a more substantial distraction. “I’d like to go over an idea I’ve been thinking about—you all can point out any weak spots in my plan.”
Zach squeezed some jalapeno cheese sauce on a cracker as he encouraged Luke to elaborate, “Go for it—we both know how the ladies are experts at finding our weak spots.”
Maddy groaned, but Luke smiled and continued, “We modify a convoy of Hummers, and trailers, so that they are encased in firmly attached lattices. There should be everything from iron I-beams to strips of Kevlar here, so I’m pretty sure we can do this. The screens have to be strong enough to stop a dozen hunters from pushing through, but not so heavy that they put too much stress on the engines of the Hummers. We can fight from anywhere inside the screens, but the trailers should be really good positions, where our troops can stand fully erect and use spears. Other soldiers can fight from the gun turrets, and we can put a couple of spearmen in each vehicle, too.”
Gracie was fully focused on Luke. “So we’d be able to form a giant laager with dozens of Hummers and attached trailers, all connected with no obvious weak points.”
Luke leaned back with a satisfied smile and nodded before looking to Zach and Maddy. “We’d have all our support vehicles and anything, or anyone, we wanted to protect inside the circle.”
“And if we needed to retreat under pressure,” Zach surmised, “all we’d have to do is unhitch those trailers and spin the steering wheels. Right? That’s what you’re thinking?”
Gracie didn’t give Luke a chance to answer before she blurted out, “We’d be able to scavenge a lot more stuff than we can just travelling on the river; there’s so many towns and cities we miss by following the Red. So do we even need the river anymore?”
“We’ll have to keep a presence on the river for a while longer,” Luke replied. “Settlements protected by water are probably still going to be our best source of manpower.”
Zach asked, “How are we gonna split up?”
“Well,” Luke explained, “you and Maddy will lead the convoy with your companies. We’ll split off two squads from one of your platoons and switch them out with Gracie’s mechanics and truck drivers, so we can maintain a decent presence on the river. We’ll use the radios to stay in constant contact, and still camp together every night. Sound good to you guys?”
Gracie nodded. “As long as I’m with you.”
“Where else would you be? We’re still in the middle of our honeymoon cruise.”
“Currently resting in the fabulous port of Red River Army Depot,” Gracie clarified. “But truly, nothing says romance more than heated buildings and showers.”
Maddy was still thinking about the advantages of a rolling-fortress army. “If we can pull off your idea, Barnes couldn’t hound us until we were so tired we had to stand and fight against one of his hordes.”
They all remembered how just such a scenario had unfolded in the weeks leading up to the Battle of Vicksburg. Luke nodded his appreciation of such mobility and concluded, “We’d be a people on the move; no damn hunter-army could pin us down unless we wanted them too.”
“Even then,” Zach added, “we’d be a freakin’ death machine to any force trying to take us out.”
Luke could picture the scenario in his mind. “All the benefits of a castle, without the huge drawback of being a stationary target for every madman with an army.”
“That’s what you and Jack have been trying to figure out for a while, isn’t it?” Gracie asked.
“It’s been a constant dilemma as far back as we have records for: fortification versus mobility. The greatest chariot forces could only ride around a fortress for a few days, and then they’d have to go home if nobody came out to fight. The troops in the fort were unable to take advantage of the retreat because they couldn’t catch their enemy. Siege warfare sucked, for both sides; it usually involved a lot of suffering with no decisive outcome. Armies of Huns and Mongols and Muslims usually slowed when the forage in the land they were invading wasn’t adequate.” Suddenly self-conscious about giving another history lecture, Luke paused and lo
oked from wife to friend.
“We all know you’re Jack’s kid,” Zach pointed out. “And don’t tell the professor I said this, but you’re not nearly as boring as he is—well, you probably would be, but he’s a lot more long-winded than you are. So feel free to continue.”
Luke shrugged. “I think my main point is that unless Barnes has artillery he hasn’t shown yet, and I think he’d have used it at Vicksburg if he did, our rolling-fortress idea will give him big problems.”
Maddy frowned. “Almost seems too good to be true; no, actually, it does seem too good to be true. So what are the potential drawbacks?”
Gracie answered, “Fuel and maintenance, same problem we always have when we rely on motorized vehicles.”
“It’s the same problem the Germans had with all their great war-machines in World War II,” Luke added.
Gracie wanted to focus on the positive. “The good news is that we’re sitting on a gold-mine of resources right now; there’s no way to know everything that’s available to us until we go over this place with a fine tooth comb.”
“Well, we already know that we can take our pick of vehicles,” Zach declared. “Everything’s here, from Hummers to Bradleys to MRAPS to weird tanks that I’ve never seen before.”
Maddy energetically nodded. “Add to that the machine shops, welding facilities, and all kinds of materials we can modify vehicles with and I think we just won the lottery.”
“Too bad they didn’t keep half of this place as an armory,” Zach said wistfully. “Think of how much ammo this place could hold.”
“Yeah,” Gracie admitted, “that would be the icing on the cake. But I bet it’d still be just like all the other military units; the troops here still would’ve fired everything they had trying to stop the outbreak, no matter how much they had.”
Zach opened up another package of crackers and offered to share with Maddy. She took one and snapped it in half. “I actually found two cans of 5.56 under a desk in a company armory,” she said, “we can always use that with the ARs we brought along.”
