Strickland stood and saluted. “Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER THREE
Fifteen minutes later, Strickland had returned and Cathy was just refilling his mug when Bud approached the office with two civilians in tow, a man and a woman.
“Captain, are you ready for us?” Bud asked, knocking on the door frame.
Hopkins stood up. “Please, come in. Who do we have here?”
“Gentlemen, let me introduce Paul Huffman,” Bud said, stepping aside to reveal a stout man in his fifties with a quite prominent bald spot shining in the fluorescent lights. “He’s my lead mechanic and has been heading up the maintenance on the two helicopters.”
The Captain pursed his lips. “Why is a civilian working on military hardware?”
“Because the boys your higher-ups assigned to this facility know jack shit about helicopters,” Paul said gruffly before Bud could answer.
Hopkins raised an eyebrow. “And you do?”
“Yes sir, I do,” his guest replied, puffing out his chest a bit. “I’ve been flying for the better part of three decades, and I run Huffman’s Sky Tours out in Harrison. Been working on choppers longer than some of these boys have been alive.”
The Captain nodded, and extended his hand to shake. “Good enough for me,” he replied, and motioned for the man to sit down. “And who is this young lady?”
“Jean McCormick,” the woman said, stepping forward to offer her hand to him. She looked to be in her early thirties, her petite face framed by mousy blonde hair. “I grew up in Bevis, which is northwest of the city. I spent the last eight years running the shipping department for the SuperCenter chain, so I’m pretty familiar with everything in the area.”
Hopkins nodded. “Good, pleasure to meet you,” he said, and returned to his seat. “Has Bud filled you in on what’s going on?”
“Yes sir, he has,” Paul replied.
“Good.” The Captain turned on the monitor behind him. “Then you know what we’re up against.”
Cathy filled coffee cups for the three latecomers and then retreated from the office, closing the door gently behind her. The monitor showed a map of the southern portion of the area on the other side of the river.
Bud furrowed his brow as he leaned against the wall, allowing Jean to take the last empty seat. “Why can’t we see the interstate?”
“Because those things have completely clogged it,” Hopkins replied. “I did a quick sweep of the surrounding areas down south and it pretty much looks the same, so we can mark out everything on that side of the river.”
“Bevis might be a good target,” Jean piped up. “It’s north, northwest of the city, maybe fifteen miles as the crow flies.”
“That’s a little too close for comfort,” Strickland put in. “Population is still pretty thick. We need to get out in the sticks if we’re going to pull this off. You know of anything that’s closer to sixty or seventy miles out?”
Paul barked a hysterical laugh, seemingly out of nowhere.
Hopkins shot him an annoyed glance. “Something funny?”
“Oh no,” the older man ran a hand over his bare head, “it’s actually quite horrifying.” He took a deep breath to compose himself. “Whoever flew the bird last was not only a shitty pilot, cause let me tell you these babies are dinged up to hell, but they are also quite forgetful.”
The Captain clasped his hands in front of him on his desk. “What did they forget to do?”
Paul gulped. “Fill it up with gas.”
There was a tangible silence for a few moments as what he’d said sank in.
“So,” Strickland finally said, clearing his throat, “let us in on your little secret. How bad is it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve pulled the fuel from both, and my best guess it that we have—maybe—eight minutes of flight time? Possibly less, depending on the damage.”
The Corporal couldn’t hold back his own bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair in defeat.
Bud shook his head. “Not to worry, though, we have gas pumps on site.”
“But are they stocked with aviation fuel?” Paul asked.
Bud furrowed his brow. “Well. No.”
“Well you might as well say you have a water hose, because it would be just as effective as the gas you have,” Paul replied, letting out a deep whoosh of breath.
“Christ,” Strickland hissed, “do we even have enough to get us to Bevis?”
Paul nodded. “Yeah, we do, however if y’all don’t mind, I have another suggestion.”
The Corporal waved for him to continue. “By all means, go ahead, we’re making this shit up as we go anyway.”
“Captain,” Paul prompted, turning to face the monitor again, “can you please pull up the I-74 and 275 interchange?”
Hopkins slid the remote for the monitor across the desk to the aviation specialist. Paul picked it up and raised an eyebrow, confused.
“Consider yourself promoted,” the Captain declared, and leaned back in his chair with his coffee cup to watch.
Paul turned the remote over in his hand. “But I’m not in the military.”
“Consider yourself drafted, then,” Hopkins amended, waving a flippant hand.
Paul shook his head in bewilderment. “I can work with that.” He fumbled with the remote, and then finally figured out how to move the arrows to properly scan the map. He zoomed in on the intersection he’d been looking for. “We need to find a landing zone somewhere south of here. This intersection is halfway between Bevis and my town of Harrison. Now, while some of you boys head up to Bevis and the SuperCenter, I can lead another group to my workshop.”
“Two teams?” Strickland cut in. “You know we can only take six people with us, right? Splitting up is incredibly dangerous. What do you have in your workshop that’s so important?”
Paul stared at him. “An aviation fuel truck.”
Hopkins smacked a hand down on his desk. “Okay, two teams it is, then. Bud, please radio to Horowitz and have him ready to fly.”
“Yes, sir,” Bud replied, pushing off of the wall.
“Whoa, whoa!” Paul put his hands up. “Was he the dingus that flew in here? Because that boy shouldn’t be going anywhere with y’all.”
Hopkins shrugged. “The other pilot was bitten during one of the restocks, so Horowitz is our only viable option.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “You’ve got me.”
“You can fly a military chopper?” the Captain asked, blinking at him.
“Hell yeah I can,” Paul replied, almost sounding defensive. “I’ve had a few in my collection over the years. Not only that, but I have more flight time than your boy. I’ve also done less damage to my equipment in three decades than he’s done in the last three fucking days.”
Strickland clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward, facing the older man with a stern expression. “Paul. I need you to be straight with me. Can you handle yourself out there?”
“I mean, I can shoot a gun with halfway decent accuracy,” Paul replied with a shrug. “I ran a couple five k’s last year, albeit at a slow pace. As long as y’all aren’t expecting me to parkour over walls and shit I should be able to keep up.”
Strickland took a deep breath and turned to the Captain. “From what I know about our pilots in this unit, I think we’d be hard pressed to find one with a better resume.”
Hopkins laughed and nodded, giving another wave as he took a long sip of his spiked coffee.
“Okay, you’re in,” Strickland said, turning back to his new pilot. “Whenever we’re done with this meeting, I want you to find us a good landing spot. But for the time being, can you please shift the screen over to Bevis?”
Jean motioned with her thumb, indicating he should move the map down as Paul tried to navigate the city.
“The shopping center is just off the interstate to the north,” she said, and when he centered on it, she pointed. “The building on the right there is the SuperCenter. Before evacuating, we were in the middle o
f a shipment, so with any luck those trucks are still there.”
“Any of them have food?” Hopkins asked. “Medicine?”
“There was some fresh stuff that is worthless now,” she replied, “but pretty sure we had a few pallets of canned goods.”
“Better than nothing at the moment,” the Captain admitted. “Might buy us a day or two. Corporal, just make sure you have somebody who can handle a big rig on your team.”
Strickland nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Jean raised a delicate hand. “I can do it.”
The Corporal took a deep breath. “Jean, I appreciate the offer.” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “And before I say another word, let me assure you that what I’m about to say I would say to anybody, regardless of gender. So please don’t think I’m a sexist prick because you just happen to me a woman.” He fixed his gaze on her. “But there is no way in fucking hell I’m taking another civilian on this excursion. Because if he wasn’t an experienced helicopter pilot I’d be leaving his ass here, too.”
“That’s not all I bring to the table, Corporal,” she said, raising her chin.
Strickland chuckled and shook his head. “Okay, let’s hear your story too, then.”
“I’m the shipping manager for the SuperCenter,” Jean began, “not just for that store, but for the district. I have files on every truck in the region, including GPS coordinates and shipping manifests. Not to mention store inventory for fifty-five stories in the immediate region. If Paul is successful in getting us a fuel truck, I can lead us directly to the supplies we need.
“And before you ask, I’ve spent the better part of a decade dealing with trucks and stock room guys, so I can handle my own.”
Strickland pursed his lips. “Why can’t we just grab these files for you?” he asked. “Seems easy enough.”
“Well, there’s a laptop and two USB keys that may or may not be where they’re supposed to be,” she explained. “If you want to take the chance at bringing back the wrong thing, I totally understand.”
Hopkins put his hands up as Strickland shot him a questioning stare. “It’s your operation, Corporal, entirely your call.”
Strickland grunted. “Fuck it. This is a hail Mary mission anyway, might as well go for broke, right?”
“That’s kind of my feeling on it as well.” Hopkins laughed, and took another long sip of coffee.
“Okay, you’re in,” the Corporal said, waving in Jean’s general direction. “Bud, please escort them to where they need to go. Just have them on the landing field in thirty.”
Bud nodded. “On it, sir.” He led the pair from the office, closing the door behind him.
“So, Corporal, who do you want on your team?” Hopkins asked.
“I want Becker as my second-in-command to head up the Bevis team,” Strickland replied immediately.
The Captain furrowed his brow. “You want a Private to be your second?”
“He wasn’t always a Private,” Strickland explained. “He got demoted from Corporal last year when we were deployed. Admittedly, he pulled some needlessly stupid shit, but in his defense it was his seventh deployment in eleven years. That kind of action can drive any man a little loopy.”
Hopkins pursed his lips for a moment. “Do you trust him?”
“If I didn’t, he’d be sitting here doing guard duty,” Strickland said.
The Captain shrugged. “Fair enough. Who else do you want?”
“I’ll take Private Yates,” the Corporal continued. “He was with me in the sandbox last tour. Very capable and resourceful. I get the sense that’s going to come in handy this mission.”
“We need that for this whole fucking situation,” Hopkins muttered.
“No shit,” Strickland agreed. “And for my sixth, I’d like Private Goodman.”
“Goodman?” The Captain furrowed his brow. “Isn’t he a bit inexperienced?”
“Yeah he is,” the Corporal admitted. “He’s only been out of camp for six months. But in the entire time he’s been assigned to my squad, he’s done everything I asked with precision, and he’s eager to prove himself. Plus, I figure having someone with youthful exuberance who hasn’t become disillusioned with life itself might be of some benefit on this mission.”
Hopkins chuckled and raised his coffee in a mock cheers. “Looks like you have yourself a team,” he said. “When you load out, take as much ammo as you can carry. No use in rationing it, since if you fail this mission we’re all gonna starve to death.”
“Starving to death sounds better than being zombie chow,” Strickland mused as he got to his feet.
Hopkins took a deep breath. “Here’s hoping we’ll never find out. Good luck, Corporal.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“So did they tell y’all what this is about?” Private Goodman asked as he pulled his boots on, voice echoing in the locker room.
Private Yates shook his head. “Nope, we got the same order you did,” he replied as he clipped his ammunition belt on. “Just come down and gear up.”
“Well, it’s gotta be big if they’re giving us the green light to take whatever we want,” Goodman said, eyes wide with excitement as he picked out a large rifle from one of the lockers.
Private Becker snorted as he shrugged into his bulletproof vest. “Or they know it’s a suicide run.”
That put a damper on Goodman’s mood, and he turned to his companion, brow furrowed. “Surely they aren’t sending us out there to die, are they?”
“Do you see any high ranking troops here, rook?” Becker sneered. “Cause I sure as shit don’t.”
Yates shot him a steely glare, and then turned to the younger man. “Don’t worry, Becker here is just a salty motherfucker who’s lost faith in the system, what… two, three deployments ago?”
“That’s cute that you think I ever had faith in the system,” Becker shot back as he laced up his boots.
Yates clapped Goodman on the shoulder. “Don’t worry kid, we’ll be fine,” he said, and the younger Private nodded, shoulders relaxing a bit.
Strickland walked in, flanked by Bud and two more civilians. “All right, you boys geared up and ready to go?” he barked.
Goodman stood ramrod straight and saluted. “Yes, sir!” he cried.
“What’s the mission, if there are only four of us headed out?” Becker asked as he got to his feet.
Strickland stepped aside. “Well, there’s going to be six of us. Meet Paul and Jean.”
The newcomers gave a small wave, and Becker eyed them for a moment before shaking his head, turning to stuff more ammo into his belt.
“Oh boy,” he muttered, “an escort mission. These always go well.”
“It had better go well,” Strickland said firmly, “because if it doesn’t, everybody in this facility is going to starve to death.”
The three Privates froze, even Becker, who straightened and turned to his Corporal.
“Fucking hell,” he blurted.
Yates swallowed hard. “So the rumor going around about the fire was true?”
“If anything, the rumor wasn’t as bad as the reality of the situation,” Strickland explained, crossing his arms. “This facility only has about two days of food left. The fire also destroyed most of the medicine and seeds for the greenhouses.”
“Well, I guess it could be worse,” Becker scoffed. “At least we aren’t walking.”
“You say that,” Paul said with a chuckle.
The Private’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are we walking out of here?”
“Oh no, we’re flying out of here,” Paul assured him, putting up his hands, “just not very far. I found us a landing spot at a construction site halfway between our two targets.”
Yates cocked his head. “Two targets?”
“That’s right,” Strickland cut in. “The helicopter is almost out of fuel, so Paul, Goodman, and myself are going up to Harrison to get a refueling truck. While we’re doing that, Becker’s team is
going to head up to the SuperCenter in Bevis to get supplies.” He pulled a small stack of maps from his back pocket and handed them out to the proper teams, with highlighted routes. “We’ve checked the latest satellite imagery and the route to Bevis along the interstate looks pretty clear. So when we land, you are to secure transportation at the apartment complex here and proceed up to the target. It’s a high-end place, and they typically have branded concierge vehicles. We figure the keys will be in the manager’s office.”
Yates raised an eyebrow, glancing up from his map. “That’s one hell of an assumption there, isn’t it?”
The Corporal raised his chin. “I mean, if you want to go door to door in the neighborhood nearby hoping someone left their keys there, you’re free to do so,” he said with a flippant wave. “We’re just going with our best guess about the easiest way to find transportation. And this seemed like it.”
“I can live with that.” Yates sighed. “Plus all that tree coverage in the neighborhood next door makes me nervous.”
Becker nodded. “Yates is right. It looks like a hell of a lot of civilization around that complex.” He drew in a breath. “How do you know it’s not overrun?”
“Didn’t see much in the way of movement, although the trees do make it more difficult,” Strickland admitted. “Although the apartment community is gated, so if you can get inside, you should be okay.”
Yates sighed. “Famous last words,” he muttered.
“Hey, if you want to swap missions with us, you can,” Strickland said, more than a hint of amusement in his tone. “We’re headed through the woods and across the river on foot.”
Becker’s eyes widened. “Why in the fuck are you doing that?”
“Because we spotted a horde on the interstate close to our target in Harrison,” the Corporal explained. “They won’t be much of a problem when we’re in a big-ass fuel truck, but could give us issues in a civilian vehicle.”
“Okay.” Becker let out a sharp whoosh of breath. “Apartment complex it is, then.”
Strickland nodded sharply. “Thought so. Any other questions?” He waited a beat, and then raised a hand and twirled it in the air. “Okay, finish getting ready, and be at the chopper in five.” He headed for one of the lockers and started pulling down gear for himself.
Dead America: The Second Week Box Set [Books 1-6] Page 23
