I reached out to an old friend of mine in Russia and he says they have been fighting Ridder in some of the worst battles seen so far. Victor tells me that President Nikolai is still holding on to power and is throwing everything he has at Ridder and the infected. Nikolai firmly believed in the beginning that we were responsible and was seconds away from ordering an all-out nuclear retaliation. I transmitted to Victor the Culling Initiative plans and Nikolai has softened to our situation.”
Dan sat back and listened to all the raw data being thrown at him and dutifully took notes. He took the time to think through the information and organize it in his own thoughts to form his next questions. “Thank you Jene. I noticed though you left out Japan, China, Korea, Africa and the South American nations. Why is that?”
“I can answer that one, Mister President,” a new voice announced, as a woman entered the compartment. Amanda sat down next to Dan and offered him a weak smile. She wore a sling for her injured left arm, and in place of her cover, a bandage wound around her head.
“Good to see you Hammermeister,” Dan gave her a small side hug.
“Trust me Mister President, the pleasure is all mine, I am sorry I could not save more of our team,” her smile slipped from her face, as she begun to recount her escape from Travis Air Force Base. Dan’s hand cupping her chin brought her back to the here and now. She took in a calming breath and continued. “I wrested back control of more satellites, thanks to some friends that worked for SpaceX and made it through the shambling dead and Ridder forces. We were able to take pictures of the numerous nation capitals and military bases around the world. It appears that Beijing, Seoul, Paris, Tokyo, Baghdad, Mexico City, and a long list of others that have been almost completely destroyed or abandoned.” She looked around the room and caught sight of a world map pinned to the wall, her eyes continued to scan as she settled on the man to her right and his shirt pocket. She snatched a black sharpie from him and moved quickly to the map. “Right here and here, are massive flotilla fleets of military, commercial, and personal crafts,” she circled a section of the northern Pacific near Alaska and a section of the Atlantic where no island or country existed.
Dan stared at the marks on the map and mulled it over. “Are we intercepting any communications from those groups?” he looked over to Jene.
“No Mister President, but we were not looking for them. I will make this our next priority.”
Dan pointed to Langham, who was looking bored. For some reason he did not like this woman, she acted like she resented having to answer to him. “What is our official count of ships in the Pacific and Atlantic?”
Langham roamed her eyes over the men and women assembled. “That information is classified, and these people are not cleared for it,” she looked upset being called onto the carpet.
Dan sighed out loud theatrically, but before he could open his mouth, to speak another voice piped up, as the hatch opened. “I believe your Commander in Chief asked you a question,” a man dressed in what Dan recognized as an Army officer’s uniform, spoke out loud.
Dan smiled, knowing that Langham had just ran into an immovable object in the form of General John ‘Iron Man’ Kuppers. Langham eyed him for a second, gauging if he outranked her, and then dropped her head in supplication. “Including the Reagan, Zumwalt, and our sub Maine, we have one other carrier, the Bush which is in the Atlantic. We also have verified LCS or Littoral Combat Ships, the USS Independence and Freedom, both who are in the Atlantic and serving as protection to the Bush. We got lucky and have all the U.S. submarines under our command, except for a few that were in port at Naval Base Kitsap near Seattle, who now seem to be aligned with Ridder. We are trying like hell to bring the other eight carriers and other ships under our command. We also have a good number of Coast Guard ships, but Richards sent them up to Alaska and out to Iceland. We can call them back anytime. We have a significant number of strike aircraft at our disposal but lack the pilots to fly them.”
“Send the Bush to the Atlantic Flotilla and make contact. I want those ships under our protection,” Dan ordered.
“Sir, one of our eight aircraft carriers, not aligned with Ridder, is in that flotilla. Along with what looks like France’s one and only carrier.” Amanda threw in.
Dan turned to Kuppers and tilted his head to him. “Good to see you Kuppers, what is our current strength of ground forces in the U.S.?”
“Mister President,” Kuppers hid a smile that threatened to bloom on his face. “We have some problems, Ridder has hit many of our bases throughout the west coast. I am trying to get eyes on the ground to figure out what happened and get an idea of our residual strength. We have however, been in contact with some other units on the East Coast and sprinkled over the rest of the country. It would seem some of the Army, Marines, and guard units ignored their orders and moved into the mountains, gathering citizens along with them and moving into defensible positions. We do not have a complete report on numbers yet, but I have reached out and talked to some of the commanders, who it turns out I know from my previous life. They have pledged their loyalty to you, and the remainder of our forces.”
Dan closed his eyes and tried hard to ignore the headache that threatened to overcome him. He had not slept in forty-eight hours and was living on warm Navy coffee. Every time he sat down to eat, he would be interrupted with another brush fire he needed to put out. Being President of a divided country in chaos was not good for his body.
“Okay, listen up. I want small units sent off to all affected bases and report back their findings. Ridder seems to have us on the ropes. We need to come up with a plan to hit back and cause damage to them,” Dan looked over to Kuppers and the man nodded his agreement. “Amanda, get me pictures of Seattle and the surrounding area, I also want you to check out Las Vegas, San Diego, Portland, and a certain little base in Nevada. I think they call it Area Fifty-One.”
The room became quiet for a second before snickering exploded around the table. Dan was not amused and pinned the room with a look. “Mister President, Area Fifty-One does not exist,” Langham spoke up from her place against the wall.
“That is not a true statement,” Kuppers spoke up. The room as one craned their heads toward the big military man. “I have been there twice, trust me that place exists,” Kuppers pinned Jene with a look. He reached into his pocket and removed a flip notebook. He wrote on it quickly and handed it to Jene. “Monitor that channel. You should be able to contact a Mister Lundy, use the code word on the paper. He should respond, with the second code word. Respond with Iron Man. Once he has authenticated, set up a call with the President and myself.”
Jene took the paper and read it over. “Yes sir, right away sir,” she stood and turned to the President. “Mister President, if you have nothing else for me, I will get on this right away.”
Dan nodded his head and motioned to the hatch. He turned his head and put Langham straight in his cross hairs. “Commander Langham, I want you to move us north near Oregon,” Dan looked down to his notes.
“Do you have something a little more detailed Mister President?” Langham snarked back looking at her fingernails.
Dan put his notebook and pen down and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had a headache that felt like something was inside and threatening to explode out. He couldn’t get the image of the chest buster from the movie Alien out of his thoughts.
Kuppers had still not sat down as he pinned Langham with an icy stare. “Commander, learn to anticipate the President. He has no time to give you detailed coordinates, that is his aide’s jobs. I would be happy to meet with you and explain this to you in a one on one situation.”
“Although I do enjoy a good inter-office battle, I do understand the Commander’s issues. Please steam north Commander, I will make sure you get detailed coordinates within the hour,” Dan dropped his head back down to his notebook. After a couple of moments, he raised his head again and regarded the room, still filled with his aides and department heads. “Oh, dismissed or w
hatever. Kuppers and Holston take a seat,” he went back to his notebook again.
The compartment emptied quickly, as Kuppers took a now empty seat next to Dan. Holston took the seat on the other side of Dan. Kuppers caught Langham’s attention before she left. “Commander, when I am done here, I think we should have that talk,” he pointed his finger at her.
She stopped in her tracks and looked Kuppers over, measuring his demeanor. “Aye, aye, General,” she turned to leave and stopped dead in her tracks.
A naval officer with higher rank stood at the hatch of the compartment. She knew this man, his name was Craig Schlesinger, she had been his XO on her first cruise onboard a heavy cruiser, fifteen years ago. She checked out his sleeve and took in his rank, one two-inch gold stripe and two, one-inch gold stripes above it. He had been promoted to Vice Admiral and outranked her by so much. He could technically take away her command of the Reagan. She snapped to attention and was part way to raising her hand to render a salute, when he shook his head and extended his hand. She took it slowly and allowed him to shake it.
“Commander Langham, just the woman I was looking for,” he let go of her hand and tilted his head, so he could see the occupants of the compartment. “Mister President, sorry I am late. Is it okay if we do this now?”
Dan waved for him to enter. Schlesinger took Langham by her elbow and moved her back into the compartment. The two men manning the hatch closed and dogged it tight. Dan stood along with Holston, and Kuppers. “This is your show Admiral,” Dan opened a leather portfolio and quickly scribbled inside it and handed it over to Schlesinger.
Schlesinger opened the portfolio and used a blue and gold pen engraved with NAVY on the side to add his signature next to Dan’s. He slammed it closed and looked over Langham. “Commander, usually one in a room filled with higher ranking officers, the lower ranking officer stands at attention,” he barked.
Langham snapped to attention and stood ram rod straight, jaw slightly tilted up and a serious look plastered on her face.
“For valor during the battle of San Diego and for seizing the initiative, bringing the Reagan and all her sailors safely through harm’s way, you have been awarded the Navy Cross,” Schlesinger removed a blue ribbon with a single gold stripe ending with a five-pointed star. He pinned it to Langham’s chest. “When I heard of your bravery and dedication to your crew, I spoke to General Richards and suggested a promotion to Captain. He agreed, but as of yesterday, I was over ridden,” he took a deep breath and examined Langham as she stood at attention. She didn’t blink or move a muscle; all emotions were kept off her face. “President Welko has suggested we skip your promotion to Captain and instead promote you to Rear Admiral immediately. You will stay in command of the Reagan’s fleet, and in charge of the West Coast,” All in the room came to attention and saluted the quickly blushing Langham. “Congratulations Admiral,” Schlesinger took her hand and shook it warmly.
Dan pushed his chair back and made his way over to Langham. He extended his hand and she took it. He held it, neither shaking it or gripping it with any pressure. “Admiral, I can be a difficult man at times, but I always give the deserving their rewards. I need you to trust me, you are going to be an integral part of my plans to take back our country from Ridder and punish those who started this war,” Dan plastered a warm smile on his face as he spoke.
“Mister President, I want to apolo…” she was cut off.
“No apologies required, clean start from here on in,” Dan announced still holding onto her hand.
“I will always have your back, Mister President, you can count on me,” she patted Dan’s clasped hand with her free one.
“Great to hear, but I don’t need an ass kisser. I need someone willing to speak up and tell me when I am wrong and being an asshole. Got it?”
“Oh, I certainly am your girl,” she laughed.
“Good. Now get us moving north and then sit down and get to work with us,” Dan moved away and retook his seat, opening another folder, and reading through it, as he took notes in his notebook.
Langham left the compartment and stopped in the companion way. Before the release of the Wild Fire disease and ensuing war with zombies and Ridder, she had planned on retiring early. She felt she had achieved the highest rank she ever would achieve. She was a thorn in too many sides of higher officers. Yet here she was a newly promoted Admiral, and in charge of her own, albeit greatly reduced pacific fleet. She quickly jogged through the companion ways and climbed up the ladder to the bridge. She easily could have used her radio to order the ships north, but she wanted to see her people. As she entered the Bridge, Lieutenant Loughrey barked out.
“Admiral on the bridge!” all residing in the bridge stood and raised hands in salute.
Langham almost spun around in shock to see if Schlesinger had followed her. That was until she remembered she had been newly promoted. She then wondered how her crew already knew and dismissed it quickly. She returned the salutes and shook her head. “Back to work people,” she made a beeline over to Lieutenant Loughrey. “The President wants us heading north toward Oregon. I have no specific heading, but I am heading back down to help figure that out. Find an empty spot in the ocean and monitor all sea traffic. I do not want to run into a Ridder controlled battle fleet. Get a drone up and push it out to make sure we don’t get unwanted visitors. What I wouldn’t do for a Hawkeye E-2D or E-3 Sentry AWACS command and control plane. Those planes are worth their weight in platinum. I have no idea how those guys in World War II ever handled life without an airborne warning and control system airplane,” Langham shook her hair loose and combed her fingers through it. She had loosened military grooming standards, which allowed the women under her to let their hair hang down. She had a feeling she was about to become unpopular, when she brought that little rule back. She flipped her hair over one shoulder and quickly braided it up and finished by twisting that into a bun on the top of her head. As she raised her head and took in her crew, she realized they had taken her unspoken cue and had busied themselves putting their hair back into standards. She had one kick ass crew and she was proud of them. She had a predominant female crew on her ship, not from a conscious decision, it just so happened that was what was left on Coronado back when the Aces SOF Special Operations Force team had saved them all from their prison inside the commissary.
Langham turned to leave the bridge, when a hand landed on her shoulder. She turned around to find herself staring into Lieutenant Mack Hutchinson’s, call sign Vader eyes. He gave his trademarked grin filled with white teeth. “Can I help you with something Vader?”
“I am bored, I need something to do,” he stretched his arms to his side and faked a yawn theatrically.
Langham tried very hard not to roll her eyes at the man. He was annoying and continuously whining. She had, had to use one of her Marine Special Operations Command MARSOC Marines to slap him down a little, when he said she had no authority over him. Finally, to get him out of her hair and give him a duty to keep him busy, she had made him the Air Boss. His duties included planning all air missions and control of the mighty Reagan flight deck.
“You have a job, and you have been doing a magnificent job of it,” she tried to stroke his ego. Hoping it would end the conversation faster.
Vader perked up at the compliment, but then shook it off. Of course, he was doing a magnificent job. He was the greatest pilot in the U.S. Navy, or any Navy at that. He had an ego, of course he did, when you were the best, you could flaunt it. “Oh boy, I have launched three drones, an Osprey, and a helicopter in the last week. This position is not fulfilling my particular set of unique skills. I could be kicking Ridder in the teeth or dropping more of those Hades bombs on the puss maggots out there,” he was getting heated up.
“You have a very important job right now Vader. If you don’t want it, I could always promote the Mini Boss and put you into the flight rotation.”
“Oh please, there is a reason he got the callsign Numb Nuts. He couldn’t do
my job. The man would have your deck an entire mess and all of flight ops in chaos. And putting me in rotation is no better, we haven’t launched any of our aircraft since we got them on board. We have fifty bored pilots sitting in pre-flight playing cards and circle jerking. I want to do something, let me assign at least recon flights over our bases. Or put up a defensive ring around the fleet,” he pleaded.
Langham sighed in frustration, she really wanted to end this conversation right here, right now. “I am heading down to work with the President, I will bring up your ideas. Okay?” she softened her voice.
“As good as I am going to get, I guess,” with that he turned and yelled for someone to get him a hot coffee, and made his way to the outside deck.
I need time to do girly things
I ran, leading my new team around buildings and trees, working in a round-about way to the building Kot and Hicks held. This was the back door to the building our objective rested in. I slowed my pace and allowed the team to catch up to me. As I did, a body came out of the darkness, moving in that faster gait, the damn meat bags had found us. I dropped my SCAR onto its sling and punched out with my tactical gloved fist, with hard plastic and Kevlar knuckles. I had slid these on after my earlier battle with the two zombies, after disembarking the Osprey. My fist collided with the zombie’s throat and forced it back a couple of steps I felt the delicate bones break under my hand. I wasted no time and kicked out with my size fifteen combat boot and connected with the zombies left knee, cracking it and forcing it in a direction the joint was not designed to bend in. As the zombie fell forward, collapsing from his ruined knee, I raised my boot and came down on the back of the zombie’s head, pushing it against the dirt and grass. I raised my foot again and stomped down bringing all my weight and strength down. The cracking sound, from the breaking skull told me I had done it right. To make sure the zombie was finished, I continued stomping down till I could feel something mushy under my boot.
Zombie Theorem: Dark Times Book Five Page 8
