"A few days ago. He's also our commander."
"Well, Command Newaygo or whatever you call yourselves, I'll try to hold on. We're running in circles right now trying to avoid these damn zombies. Tell the governor to get his ass in gear and hurry up please."
Behind Zeke, the hatch slammed open as Corporal Rider leaped into the command APC while buttoning her clothing which made Zeke wonder for a fraction of a second before he gave her a micro-quick update. She instantly grabbed the microphone from him and talked fast.
"Kent City, this is Corporal Rider, Communications Officer for Newaygo Command. Hang in there. The commander will want to know what's going on and maybe we can help. Thirty newborns you say?”
"Yes, Ma'am, over thirty. Rescued from Mercy Hospital before it fell to the zombies. That's what was passed up the line anyways. Those babies are only a few days old, and these guys in Muskegon at the rehabilitation clinic are holding out, but they say ammunition is low and they're about to be overrun. More zombies than you can shake a stick at, was what I heard passed up the line. Actually, the figure they gave was over thirty thousand of the fuckers."
"Crap," Corporal Rider murmured without keying the microphone, and looked at Zeke as he looked back with wide eyes. This was not the time to ask this Kent City man about this 'line' he referred to. Children were much more important. Her eyes were already welling up. "Get outside. Find the commander. Now!" and Zeke ran.
*****
I’d almost made it to the front of RAC when the sirens went off. What now? I keyed my tactical microphone and was greeted with silence. What the hell? I turned and sprinted back the way we'd come, my security arrayed around me, guns out and triggers half depressed, searching for any threat. The CAPC came into view and I saw Zeke running out in the opposite direction. I had no clue what was going on, honestly. I ran like I was on fire though, then suddenly my tactical ear bud went live.
"Commander, report please. We have a situation." It was my LSS and she sounded professional with a big hint of frantic in her voice.
I didn't bother responding, I just slammed the hatch open and jumped inside, growling while my security arrayed themselves in a semicircle outside.
"What the hell? What's the emergency? Where are the zombies attacking, and why was the net down?"
"No zombies attacking us. Net's down because Zeke flipped an extra switch he shouldn't have. Won't happen again, Sir. Emergency is, you gotta listen to this." With that she punched two spots on the touch screen before her and a recorded conversation came over the speakers at high speed. Oh, shit almighty, I thought as I heard the conversation between Zeke and this unknown from Kent City sped up to twice normal. I felt like someone had just gut punched me. I grabbed the spare headset up off the console, placing it over my head, and nodded at LSS. She flipped me the go-ahead.
"Kent City, this is Colonel Scarmon. We will assist. Can you give us a better idea of where they are?"
"Hi Colonel. Well, all I know is they're right next to Mercy Hospital on the east side. Know where it is?"
"Roger that. How can we identify their location other than that?"
"Well, probably by the extra large group of zombies trying to eat them would be my guess," the sarcastic reply came back.
Mentally I kicked myself in the ass. "Roger that again. How bad is the situation?"
"I don't honestly know, Colonel. Just that they say they're low on ammo and have a million zombies up their ass. A bunch of disabled, along with women and children with hospital staff holding out against more zombies than you can shake a stick at. Over thirty newborns rescued from Mercy Hospital before it fell. Can you help them please? I need to relay something back. I got peeps waiting on the word. We don't have many but are sending what we can to help them, as are other groups. With our numbers we would only delay the end, not change it. Only you might make the difference, but we’re going whether you help or not!"
"Absolutely we'll help! We are on our way. ETA one hour or slightly more. Tell them that!"
"Thank you and good luck, Newaygo. Wished our intro were under less dire circumstances. Gotta go and I'll let them know. Thanks again."
"Thank you Kent City. God bless and we'll be in touch." I pulled the headset off and turned to LSS. "My tac live now?" I growled, and she nodded. I keyed it.
"TOP!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.
*****
"How long would it take to get to them?" Major Robinson turned to the chief next to him, asking the question when Newaygo finally signed off. Other officers were in the room but none he trusted more than Chief Warrant Officer-3 Blumont for an up-to-date readiness report and flight times. They were currently listening to tactical reports off satellite. It was the group in Newaygo, and per standard Newaygo procedure, their communications officer was broadcasting over satellite while talking to another survivor group. Major Robinson's group was getting it all, and hanging on the edge of their seats. They were also piping it live to the flight line and temporary camps. Robinson wanted everyone on board with every decision, or at least informed. Almost all had stopped working and were standing around listening with rapt attention.
"It would take just over an hour and a half to get there Sir, assuming normal pre-flight time and munitions arming for the helicopters. Muskegon is on the other side of the state, after all."
"Lieutenant Ebers, did you pull up imagery of the location of this rehabilitation clinic yet?" When they’d first started listening, Robinson had commanded Lieutenant John Ebers, his intelligence officer, to pull some real time imagery of the location if the satellites were in the right location. The lieutenant had been working steadily at that throughout the brief transmission by Newaygo.
"Yes Sir. I was unable to obtain real time imagery, but I was able to pull footage from mid morning, and I have to say their estimates are off on the number of zombies."
"By how much?"
"By a lot, Sir. It's almost impossible to know for sure exactly how many there are, but it's a hell of a lot more than thirty thousand. In fact, it's probably closer to one hundred thousand or even more than that. I'm guessing, but the roads around the facility are packed with the undead for several blocks in every direction."
"Okay people. Best guesses on if Newaygo can handle a horde that size, and if they can't, will they still try?"
"You bet they will Sir. Newaygo is all about the kids. The newborn babies alone would force this commander to go to their rescue. Hell, Sir, they started a day care for Christ sakes, and put some guy named Gil Kohl in charge of it. It was in their day before yesterday broadcast, and everything I've said was backed up by James and Josh Ederer. This commander is their uncle, after all." Lieutenant Max Purcell was the first to speak and he did so immediately, jumping in before any of the others could utter a word. Robinson smiled tiredly at his consistent enthusiasm and turned to the others.
"Anyone else?"
"Yes, the right thing to do is to go help them. Newaygo and this new governor have grown on us and ours with these daily and nightly broadcasts, Rob. It's the right thing to do, regardless, absent a stay order by higher authority, if any higher authority even exists anymore." Captain Price had spoken. Normally taciturn and abrasive, he was actually leaning forward in his seat with an intent expression on his face, watching Chief Warrant Officer-3 Chief Sheldon. The chief didn't miss Price's stare either, and raised his hand to speak next.
"For the record, I agree one hundred percent with the captain." Sheldon then turned and smiled at Captain Price, who returned it while finally settling back in his chair.
"Are there any dissenters to helping Newaygo with the rescue and possibly joining them?" Robinson was leaving nothing to chance. He knew as soon as Newaygo heard of them, they would be asked to join their growing group. Everyone shook their heads, which was a good sign. The military wasn't a democracy, and shouldn't be, but it was always preferable to have everyone striving towards the same set of goals.
"Okay then, start the preflights, Chief.
What can we afford to send without leaving our dependents defenseless?"
"With those units still alive at Campbell that decided to come with us, I would say at least a squadron and a half of Blackhawks, and most of a squadron of Little Birds, Sir. That would leave half of our available strength here. Question, before I answer that fully. Will you be bringing your Rangers?"
"As many as we can fit on board, Chief! They're itching for a fight."
"Then I'll look at our rotation schedule, but I say we go with a full squadron of assault and a half squadron or six DAP configured. Load the Direct Action Penetrator Black Hawks with Hellfires, we'll need them in Muskegon. Full load for the Little Birds, and I can mount extra rocket pods on the Assault Black Hawks while we're doing preflight as we won't need the external fuel pods. I realize it's not the safest solution but we can manage. I wish the Chinooks and A-10s were back though, along with the C-130's. They could really help. Without them Newaygo will have to ground evacuate the refugees, which will be harder and more costly in both munitions and lives. What we can provide still isn't enough against that many, but I believe we'll have enough to hold them back long enough if Newaygo gets in trouble. Do we contact Newaygo then and let them know we are on our way?"
"No. This commander of theirs obviously knows what he's doing, and he appears to have pulled together some good people to help him. I do not want to screw him up with too much information or expectations. He will go in, assess the situation and act accordingly for the best survival of his men and women, and the refugees. We will let them know of our arrival when we are almost there so as not to put any kinks in his game plan. We'll provide the backup reserve on arrival. If we announce ourselves now he will figure our strength into his battle plan, and if we're delayed for any reason, they will suffer for it."
"Makes sense, Sir."
"Alright, do it. I want to be in the air shortly. Captain Price, assemble a dozen eleven-man squads for the assault helos, then add two extra sniper-qualified in each. The door gunners can ride in their slings. Oh, and load up with extra everything, Chief."
"You got it Sir!"
"Yes Sir!"
"Yes, you may come along, Max," Robinson directed the last at Lieutenant Max Purcell, who was bouncing up and down in his seat waiting to get a word in, but the major already knew what he would ask.
"Thank you, Sir!" Lieutenant Purcell was grinning from ear to ear.
*****
"Well, that's basically what they're faced with. I'm going to lead a team to help in Muskegon's rescue and I'm asking for volunteers." Brad was addressing almost every able-bodied survivor they had either rescued or accepted. All of their work and food gathering parties were in, and those few not present were on guard duty, keeping a watchful eye out for any zombies trying to break in.
"Why can't Newaygo handle this on their own? They have a lot more people with them including military!" shouted one woman from the back.
"Because Muskegon is dying right now while we argue, Cindy. I just got off the radio relaying the news to them, and they lost another four in the last half hour. Fifteen today so far will never see another day because they needed help and had no way to get the word out until moments ago. We didn't know then, but we know now. Newaygo is an hour away, maybe more, and that is why we need to go. We can be there in a half hour. That half hour might mean four lives saved, or forty. Besides, some of those lives are babies. I told you this."
"Count me in." One hand was raised, and Brad nodded.
"Thank you, Bob. Who else?"
Like a wave, hands rose by the dozens, both male and female, and Brad felt a lump form in his throat as he nodded again and again. Everyone was starting to talk at once and he raised his hands again for quiet.
"Okay, we're going to take four of the zombie shredders. Two will run interference and the other two will tow dumpsters loaded with shooters. There are too many volunteers to take everyone, so decide amongst yourselves who's going and who's staying, but I'll take forty and that's pushing it. Now make up your minds and meet me at the main garage in five minutes."
Brad turned to Rick and held out his hand, who shook it hard. "Keep our people safe Rick. I'll see you in a few hours."
"Be careful out there and hurry back. No chances now, Brad.”
"Of course not! In and out."
With that, Brad turned and left. He only had a few minutes, and there was a tiny boy to hug and kiss, and a wife to love on.
*****
Jeff looked out over the hundreds of survivors they had rescued, or who had wandered in, responding to their CB and PA system broadcasts. They were gathered in the school gym and he had just finished telling them about the emergency situation in Muskegon. He had also informed them of the forces Coopersville was sending and that they were already on their way. Now most were talking to their neighbors and the noise was growing quite loud. He lifted the microphone connected to an amplifier by his feet and asked for quiet. Slowly the crowd quieted and he finished his pitch for volunteers.
"We're taking eight snowplows with us. That's half of our total. I already have drivers who've volunteered and I can fit up to six men and women in the back of each. I need volunteers for those who will be firing from the back. You do not have to go. We understand what you've already been through, and many here have families to protect. We also understand most if not all here have lost loved ones, either through the vaccines or from the zombies, so there is no shame in staying here to protect those still alive." He paused for a moment, looking out over the crowd again and marveling at how fast they had become silent, before continuing, "They're dying in Muskegon. We have to help. It's the human thing to do. Now those of you wishing to volunteer step forward please, and no pushing or shoving." Jeff joked with that last part as he didn't expect that many to ... his mouth fell open as most of those assembled strode forward, some even shoving to be first nearest the stage he was standing on.
"Hold on. I can't take everybody! Alright. If any of you ladies have children, step away from the stage please. I can't guarantee we'll be successful or even if we'll make it back in one piece." About a third of those before him drifted to the back of the gym, and Jeff started to do a quick head count then gave up. Turning to Earl who stood beside him he remarked, "We'll need at least four more snowplows, Earl and more than six shooters in each."
*****
Larry looked over at Jaime, Rod, and Bruce as they sat on their ATVs watching the zombies get closer. They had drifted slightly from their previous position so they could sit and talk. Rod was the first to speak.
"What's next? I have a full tank of gas still. Pretty much full anyways." He thumped his gas tank, grinning.
"Yeah man. My tank reads almost full too," Jaime piped up. Larry eyeballed them. He knew what they were getting at.
"It's a bad idea."
"Thirty babies, man." Bruce had finally spoken. Bruce was not much of a speaker. He was more methodical and plodding, but always came through. Larry sighed.
"Everyone have plenty of ammo?" A chorus of ayes followed his words. "Well, what the fuck. It's only forty-five minutes away. Let's go. Jaime. Radio the ranch and let them know we couldn't help ourselves and will be late for dinner."
"They already know, man!" Jaime replied as he sat on his Yamaha, the radio to his ear, a huge grin on his face. "Bill told you he would ask for volunteers, man. There they come now.” With that, he pointed behind Larry, who turned and gasped. Appearing out of a huge cloud of dust were dozens of ATVs racing across the dried farmer’s field towards them. At their lead was Bill, wearing camouflage fatigues, a police flak jacket, and an M4 carbine strapped across his chest.
"You OK this with your woman, Bill?" Larry asked as Bill coasted to a stop beside him. Strapped to the back of his four-wheeler were ammo cans and other bagged supplies.
"Some things are more important than we as individuals, Larry. You know this. I caught that last transmission of Jaime's. You were getting ready to take off without us. Well, I ca
n't let you get all the glory, now can I?"
Larry leaned over to shake Bill’s hand as a lump formed in his throat. It was good to have comrades. "Let's ride!" he growled as he flipped his visor down.
*****
The Reaper spread the map of Muskegon out over the table, and by tracing roads with his finger found what he was looking for. "This is their location. Straight down Apple, then north six blocks." He grabbed a pen off the table and circled it.
"It seems simple enough, Reaper. We'll take the freeway to the highway exit, then head west on Apple." Alethea was bent over the map with him while jotting down notes on a small pad she held in her hand.
"It is simple, and impossible to miss. The hospital is the largest building in the area. You'll see it from a half mile away. These guys are a block or so east of it."
"Great, well saddle up, Reaper. We're not wasting time."
"Which one do I have to ride behind?" the Reaper asked as he looked at the motorcycles with trepidation. It had only been minutes since they’d heard the broadcast, and he was anxious to get moving. The Lord was in all out push mode, propelling him towards the greatest danger. He welcomed it. Trevor stood beside him, his rifle ready and ammo bag slung over one shoulder.
"What? The big bad Reaper scared of a little ol' bike?" Alethea teased as she made herself comfortable on the seat of the foremost trike while Mouse settled in behind her.
"Don't like motorcycles, they're unsafe!" He scowled more as he fingered his rifle on its sling. His own ammo bag was slung across his left shoulder and neck. They had packed in a thousand rounds, and that made for an extra heavy load. Alethea started laughing, and had just raised her hand to point at one of the other bikes when Joseph ran up, breathless.
"No no, I have something special for you, Reaper. Follow me. You'll love it," and with that he led the way through another side door while the Reaper and Travis followed. Inside was an olive drab specialized military Humvee. The front cab was standard, as was the side railed open back, with what was obviously a .50 caliber machine gun on mount. Standing in the back manning the gun were two women, both tough looking. One was Jesse, whom he recognized from their attack the other night. The other was new, and he nodded at her, only to blink in surprise when she winked at him. He felt Travis elbow him in the ribs, which he ignored.
Legacy of the Living Page 40
