by TW Gallier
"I have bad news," Sean said, looking me in the eyes. "The bus was captured. They took all of the women and children."
Blackness threatened to take me down. I clenched my jaw, my hands shook, and I struggled to control my emotions. They took my wife. They took my boys and Spooky. Rage filled me a moment later.
"I swear to God, I'm going to murder them all!"
Chapter 45
"Oh, God, it's true."
I lay upon the cold concrete floor, propped up on one elbow as I looked around. We were inside a hangar, which was divided into a dozen large cells. The inside was dimly lit by early morning sunlight filtering through high, dirty windows. We were locked within a heavy-duty, fence like cell in the middle of the hangar. Similar cells surrounded us, with a ten-foot wide space between all cells. The other cells were also occupied by women and children. No men.
"Hey!" I called, scrambling to my feet. "Wake up! Somebody talk to me."
"Shut up," a woman in the next cell said. "We work hard all day. They don't give us much rest."
Those were chilling words. Were we slaves? Did our captors plan to work us to death? Half of the cots in the surrounding cells appeared to be occupied by sleeping children. I didn't see any toys.
My stomach flipped and turned sour. Heart racing, I called out again.
"Help us. We were just captured," I pleaded. "What are they going to make us do? Will they leave the children alone? Please tell me."
The woman lifted her head and scowled at me. She was middle-aged. Her brown-dyed hair had grown out to expose wide roots of pure white hair.
"You're young and pretty. You'll have it easier than the old and ugly," she said, every word dripping with bitterness. "The children old enough to work will have to do their part. Go back to sleep."
That did not help me at all. Why would the young and pretty have it easier? Well, I could think of a way, but it was more frightening than being worked to death.
My conversation had awakened the others in my cell. They were staring at me with horror. Most of the women remaining were thirty-five and under, and many were in their mid-twenties. Attractive women. In the case of Fiona, gorgeous. Even sixteen year old Haley was quite a beauty, and would the men consider her old enough?
"Oh God, save us," I whispered, clutching at the steel cage fencing imprisoning us.
"Shut up, woman," a man said.
Two men in green camouflage, M-4s on one-point straps across their chests, came into view. They were maroon berets, with the 82nd Airborne patch on their right shoulder, and no patch on the left. They'd written "RR" on the left shoulder where a patch should be. My first thought was the RR stood for "rogues and rapists."
"Who are you? Why did you attack us?"
"We're the new lords and masters of this land," the tall, skinny black guy said. His name tag said, "Coleman." His rank insignia was for an E-5 buck sergeant. The PFC with him had "McCoy" on his name tag. "Our commander will talk to you later."
Both men looked me up and down with frightening interest. The previous night flashed back, where that horrible soldier tried to rape me. Someone shot and killed him. Killed all of the soldiers around me, and I felt lucky to survive that attack. I still remembered the sound of the bullets all around me.
It wasn't Roger. He would've charged in and saved me.
"Colonel Ritter will definitely see you this morning," McCoy said. "You're just his type."
Both soldiers chuckled as they continued their patrol. I stared at them open-mouthed. Suddenly, I didn't want to speak with the commanding officer. Just talking to them left me feeling violated and dirty. The other women in our cell looked just as horrified and sickened by that short conversation.
I returned to my family. Timmy and Harlan were thankfully still asleep. Spooky looked at me with tears in her eyes. I held her tight and we rocked there for a long time, no words necessary in our shared misery.
A loud clanging sounded though the hanger. The women and children in the other cells slowly, groggily sat up and got out of bed. Everyone neatly folded the single green or brown military blanket they were issued, leaving it folded at the foot of their cots. The cots themselves were a mixture of older wood and canvas, and newer metal and nylon.
The huge bay doors were opened, flooding the inside with early morning light. The hangar was facing southeast, so at least it wasn't slanting directly inside
Some older women came in after a little while, with Army insulated field ration containers carried between each pair. My father had a bunch of them for camping when I was young. More soldiers arrived, and the cells were opened one at a time so the occupants could file over with their bowl and get breakfast. From my vantage point it looked like oatmeal.
They fed all of the cells but ours remarkably fast. It became painfully clear real fast that they had no intention of feeding us. The women carried the leftover food away. Everyone in our cell was left staring at the other women and children wolfing their meager fare down.
A little boy, maybe ten or eleven, noticed us watching. He finished his meal and stood up. "Don't worry. They'll feed you dinner. You just have to talk to the Colonel first and get your jobs."
"Jobs?" Fiona asked.
"Yes. No one gets fed if they aren't working," a thirty-something woman said. "Only the smallest children are exempted, but their mother has to work for their food."
"Are we slaves?" Kate asked.
"Yes."
"If we refuse to work?" I asked
"You will starve to death, or…" she paused, biting her lip. "Or they will toss you out to the zombies." She glanced at Timmy, Harlan, and Spooky. "And they'll toss your children out with you."
"What kind of monsters are they?" I cried.
"Rough Riders," Sergeant Coleman said. "And you either serve us, or die. This isn't your momma's America anymore, woman."
I jumped. I didn't see him coming. PFC McCoy had a key ring and went to our cage's door. Sergeant called me over as soon as the door opened. I was yanked out the door, arms pulled back, and handcuffed. Then they did the same to Kate, Sara, Willa, Nicole, Sonya, Leslie, Fiona, Selma, and even sixteen year old Haley.
"Leave her alone. My daughter's only sixteen," Selma cried. "She's just a child."
"Old enough for the Colonel to make a decision," Sergeant Coleman said. "Just to let you know, ladies, this base is surrounded by fences and rivers to hold out the zombies, so you cannot escape. But, if any of you take off running…"
"We'll gun you down," PFC McCoy finished. "As an example."
"And if you have children, they'll be tossed over the fence to feed the zombies," Sergeant Coleman said. "So do what you are told, don't give us any trouble, and you'll be all right."
I had a few choice words, like ‘what would your mother think of you now?’ But Harlan screamed for me. Fear stuck my heart, and I couldn't speak.
"Don't worry, kid, your mommy will be back in a few minutes," McCoy said. "First she had to talk to the Old Man."
"Move out," Sergeant Coleman commanded, jabbing me in the ribs with is muzzle.
We slowly filed out of the hangar. We were forced over to an adjacent hangar that had an office wing attached. It was filled with officers and senior NCOs, with maps on the walls, every office a study in urgency. I overheard men discussing other city's airports, and plans to go and recover their fuel supplies. Another discussion was over a city map, where officers were planning foraging runs to retail stores throughout the city.
Few of the men even looked up as we passed. A few did turn an appreciative eye on Fiona and Haley, which started to freak them out. I so wanted to chastise those amoral bastards, but thoughts of my children occupied my thoughts. Protecting all of the children was my first priority.
We had to wait outside a closed door so long my shoulders began to ache and cramp. Finally, the door opened and a line of Captains and Majors filed out. Sergeant Coleman signaled with his rifle that I should enter, so I led the way inside an office.
; The man inside was short and stout, with small round wireframe glasses. My first thought was "Teddy Roosevelt." Now I knew why they called themselves the Rough Riders. I was not amused. He studied each of us in turn, but his gaze kept returning to me. It began to get hot in there, and my anxiety spiked. I couldn't stop thinking about how McCoy said I was "just his type."
"Welcome to Camp New Hope. I'm Colonel Ronald J. Ritter, formerly of the US Army and 101st Airborne Division. Now I'm in charge of what's left of the eastern United States of America."
I was incredulous. Was he some kind of megalomaniac?
"You're claiming half of the country as your personal kingdom?" I asked. "What gives you the right?"
"Might is right in the new world order," he said. "What's your name? Are you in charge of this group of misfits?"
"I'm Jenny Gilley," I replied. "I was in charge of the bus, but claim no other authority. Why did you attack and kidnap us? We weren't bothering you or anyone else. All we want to do it go to Canada and live our lives where it's safe from zombies."
"Nice to meet you, Jenny. As for going to Canada, I'm afraid you'd be disappointed," he said. "Canada has closed the border. They aren't letting anyone in out of fear we all carry the zombie virus. So now you are mine to do with as I please. I suggest you swallow your pride and anger, and do what needs to be done."
I was horrified. Sara and Kate gasped. Our goal to move to Canada was denied us. If he wasn't lying, then we'd be denied entry. We were stuck in zombiefied America forever. Yet, living under Colonel Ritter's iron fist didn't have any appeal, either.
"We'd rather take our chances with the Canadians," Selma said. "Or at least be allowed to carve out a life of our own somewhere other than here."
"Really? I'm shocked," he said. He looked more amused than anything. "Don't you like us? We are all good, red-blooded American boys in the Rough Riders."
"Good, my ass," I muttered. Then more boldly, "One of your so called good American soldiers tried to rape me last night."
He scowled, eyes glazing over a long moment.
"I heard. Sorry about that," he said. And then he shrugged, as if it didn't mean anything. I seethed. "We don't rape women. We expect you to give yourselves to us freely, with a sincere smile and lots of giggles."
I waited for him to show us he was joking. He didn't. Colonel Ritter really expected us to whore ourselves to him and his men of our own free will.
"My, my, lord, you are a piece of work," I said, shaking my heads.
"What do you expect of us?" Sara asked. "I'm old; will I be taken out and shot in the head when I get too old to work?"
"You're not that old," he said. "Honestly, we haven't thought that far out. Hopefully, the zombies will leave sooner rather than later, and we can start the process of creating a more normal society. In the meantime, you will work for your food and your lives. No work. No food. And we'll only tolerate disobedience for so long before we toss you over the fence."
"To the zombies," I said, showing him my contempt and disgust.
"Exactly."
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply for a moment to calm my nerves. It was going just as badly as I expected. Worse, if you consider the fact he was so calm and contemptible about it.
"What will our duties be?" I asked. "You have so many slaves. I cannot imagine there is much each slave woman has to do."
He quirked a brow, looked me up and down a few times, and then did the same to each woman standing before him. Unlike the others, he seemed more interested in me and Kate than Fiona and Haley. When he licked lips, my sense of doom and gloom almost overwhelmed me.
"Most of you are young and pretty, so will have it easier than…," he looked at Sara. "Like I said earlier, you have to smile pretty, giggle and…um…give comfort to my officers and men."
"We're all married women," I said. Mostly widowed now, but still. "We cannot do that."
"But you will. Believe me, when you get hungry enough, when your children sob with hunger pains, you'll smile, giggle, and spread your legs eagerly," Colonel Ritter said, staring intently into my eyes. His confidence sickened me. I wanted to slap that look off his face so badly it hurt. "In fact, no one in your little group will eat until you, Jenny, come back to me ready to submit in every way." He looked at Sergeant Coleman. "Take them away."
Chapter 46
The sun was low on the western horizon. I once again stood on the hill across the river from the airfield, at the end of Miami Parkway. The others were spread out to either side of me as we all studied the airfield through binoculars.
"How are we going to get inside that?" Sean asked. "I have to believe they are expecting us."
I shook my head. He was right. I just wished he'd stop saying it. I knew what the dangers were as well as anyone. Maybe better than most, since I'd already skirmished with them once.
They had a triple line of defense: Fence, moat, zombies. The two rivers appeared to be the easiest and safest way to penetrate their perimeter, but I suspected they'd doubled the patrols and had other nasty measures deployed to keep us out. I could see them out in boats patrolling the river, which they weren't doing before. And we still didn't know if our women and children were really inside that airport.
"Roger's right. That hangar is the mess hall," Mike said. "I think I've identified the headquarters, too."
We all turned to the two-by-two foot square piece of cardboard on the ground. The airport was drawn on it, and we were making any defensive installations spotted, as well as notating the purpose of each structure.
"This one here," he said, touching our map. "It has an office complex attached to the hangar, and I'm seeing a steady stream of men coming and going. I can't image it being anything but their headquarters."
I couldn't argue his logic. I leaned over and tapped another hangar just up the line from the headquarters.
"I think we're in agreement that is their mess hall," I said, writing "mess hall' on it. Then I wrote "HQ" on the other hangar. "Everyone seems to be going straight from last formation to it."
We returned to watching the airfield and hangars. Most of the hangars were in a line to our left, with some more stretched out closest to us, left to right. Those last hangars and buildings faced away from us, so it was difficult to see who was coming and going.
"Look, women coming out of the mess hall," Terrel said.
I turned my attention there. He was right. Soldiers were escorting women carrying hot field rations out of the mess hall. They went up to a hangar I hadn't seen anyone entering or leaving all day. Of course, we didn't reach that summit until shortly after midday.
Before coming there, we returned to the barn we'd previously set up camp. The 5-ton was still there with some extra weapons. No extra ammo, though. Ammo is what we really needed. But there was food and shelter, and we were able to gather in a safe place to make plans.
Now we'd moved up to Miami Parkway, and were occupying the large home at the end of the road. I didn't plan to be there long. We had to move fast to save our families. In fact, I thought they'd already suffered in their custody too long. We just had to figure out a workable plan of attack. Workable as in survivable for us, our women, and our children.
It wasn't looking good.
A few minutes later multiple escorted lines of women, and some children, appeared. They filed out of hangars and other structures. They looked weary by the way they moved. I ground my teeth and envisioned slaughtering hundreds of men. Tension was building within.
We were too far away to recognize anyone. I could be looking down at Jenny that very moment and not know it.
"That's not good," Brett said. "There's a bunch of women leaving that hanger where they took the food. I think they are all wearing lingerie."
My blood ran cold. It was my worst nightmare come true. We watched them walk over to and enter another hanger. As the sun touched the western horizon, soldiers began leaving the hangars that we thought were barracks. Every one of them went inside the hangar w
ith the women in lingerie.
"I'm going to kill them," I growled. "I'm going to gut them, strangle them, and castrate them. And then I'm going to kill them."
The others nodded, faces grim. I looked at Larry, and then Vince. They also had wives down there. They both had murderous glints in their eyes.
"Alright, men, let's come up with a plan," I said, turning back to the house. "I cannot suffer those bastards to live another day."
THE END
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Check out these other stories by TW Gallier Publishing:
Total Apoc 1 Trilogy
The Horde Rises (Total Apoc 1 Trilogy)
Fighting the Hordes (Total Apoc 1 Trilogy)
Horde Ravaged (Total Apoc 1 Trilogy)
Total Apoc 1 Trilogy Boxed Set
Total Apoc 2 Trilogy
Dawn of the Apocalypse (Total Apoc 2 Trilogy)
Day of the Zombies (Total Apoc 2 Trilogy)
Night of the Savages (Total Apoc 3 Trilogy) Coming soon
About the Author:
TW Gallier was born in Beaumont, Texas. He served 7 years in an Armored Cavalry Regiment (11th ACR Blackhorse Regiment), learning no useful skills. After the Army he went back to school to study electronics, figuring that would be a profession with job security. In 2008 he was laid off. It wasn’t the first time or last time he was wrong. But while in school, and holding down a full time job, he began writing in his spare time. In the mid-nineties he had his first short story sale and publication. He shares his life with his wife and their two dogs.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
