by David Rogers
“Let go of me. I have to check on Austin.” she told Candice.
“I’m alright.” Austin wheezed, but as he pushed himself up slowly on his hands and knees she saw blood on the pavement beneath him. More was on him, wetly staining his black clothing. She didn’t see his gun anywhere.
“Come on, on your feet.” Jessica said, clicking the safety on and jamming her pistol back into the holster at the back of her belt. “Let’s go.”
“I know.” he said. He tried to rise, but even with her pulling on him he was having trouble. Jessica looked around and spotted her cane.
Candice saw where she was looking and grabbed for it. “Here. Use this.” the girl said, shoving it at Austin.
“If you insist.” he grunted as he took it. Using it as a support he was able to lever himself upright to his knees, then with Jessica’s help he managed to stagger up unsteadily. She swayed and stumbled sideways with him as he rose, feeling her bad knee twinging painfully as she tried to keep him up and avoid falling over herself. He was heavy, and it was hard to support him.
He crashed down on the road with a grunt. Jessica barely released him in time to avoid being pulled down with him; she knew better than to try and keep him up when he was falling like that. “Come on, come on.” she muttered tightly, tugging at his arm. “Let’s go tough guy.”
“Trying.” Austin wheezed as he pushed himself up once more. This time he got the cane propped up properly so he could use it as a lever. Jessica steadied him as best she could as he managed to rise. The big man paused as he regained his feet, leaning on the cane to breathe.
“There’s no time, we’ve got to go Austin.”
He nodded and put an arm across her shoulders. Jessica shifted her weight quickly, trying to support him and stand without using her bad leg. The first step was rough, and Austin nearly fell when he tried to take a second. Barely catching him in time, Jessica frowned and resisted the urge to shout; but her voice was growing thinner and higher with real panic now.
“Find your balance. Austin, you’ve got to help me. I can’t carry you.” she panted, struggling to keep him from going down again as he swayed. Her knee was starting to really hurt.
“I know.” he said again before a hacking cough erupted from within his chest. He got the cane planted and leaned on it as she steadied him. “I know.” he repeated painfully.
She glanced around again as he spit several times. “Okay, let’s go.”
“There.” Austin nodded at the SUV behind Eckert’s body. “Take . . . that.”
“Fine.” Jessica said, ducking under his left arm and jamming her shoulder into his armpit. “Come on, walk.” He hissed in pain as she pressed him up, but let her support him.
His next couple of steps were unsteady, and she began to despair, but he seemed to find a rhythm with the cane and her help as they staggered toward the SUV. She wasn’t sure she could even drag him, much less carry him; she needed him on his feet if she was going to get him to the vehicle. Jessica guided him around the bodies and their spreading pools of gore.
She could feel him trying to keep from leaning too heavily on her, but he kept swaying and sagging, and by the time they got to the passenger side she was panting with effort as much as he was. Austin put his hand on the vehicle as she tried the rear door first. To her relief it opened when she tugged on the handle.
“Okay, in you go. Plenty of room.”
Austin ducked in and all but fell across the seat. She put her hands on his ass and pushed as he reached for the opposite door and used the armrest to pull himself all the way in. As soon as his boots cleared the opening, Jessica slammed it closed and opened the front door. She saw the key was still in the ignition, the familiar plastic tag with its embossed Eagle vehicle number dangling on its ring. “Candice, in the car, now.”
“Wait.”
“Now . . .” Jessica repeated, stepping to the side to see what her daughter was doing. She was running up with Austin’s MP5 and pistol in her hands. As Jessica watched, the girl stopped and lifted the big rifle Eckert had dropped when Austin had shot him. Candice carried it by the sling, holding it right where the strap clipped onto the stock so the barrel pointed downward. The rifle was almost too big for her, but she managed as she joined her mother.
“In the car, now.” Jessica said, taking the rifle and MP5 from the girl. “Put that gun on the floor.”
Candice scrambled onto the seat, depositing the pistol on the floor mat as she hauled herself up and onto the seat. Jessica made sure her daughter was all the way in, then slammed the door and limped quickly around to the driver’s side. She got in, stuffed the weapons down next to the seat and center console, and grabbed for the key. The engine started right up when she tried the ignition.
“Seatbelt.” she said as she put the transmission in reverse.
The SUV responded smoothly as she backed it around in a tight circle with the steering wheel hard over. She shifted and turned north, made sure she was lined up properly on the road, then put her foot down. Despite the vehicle’s mass and size the engine was powerful enough for her to feel the acceleration as it surged forward. Nothing but the best, that was the Eagle way.
“Is your seatbelt on?” she asked Candice without looking.
“Yes.” There was an accompanying click that told the half-lie, but Jessica ignored it. Candice was belted in now.
“Austin, how are you doing?”
“Third time . . . I’ve been . . . shot.” he wheezed. She glanced at the rearview mirror, then reached and adjusted it quickly. She left it where she could see out of the SUV’s rear window but also into the backseat if she craned her head some. Austin had rolled over and was fumbling in his pockets. “Hurts like hell. Vest caught . . . some of it, . . . but rifle rounds . . . aren’t what it’s . . . designed against.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Candice asked, twisting and looking between the front seats.
“I hope so. When you get to . . . the main road . . . turn left. West.”
“Right.” Jessica said. She fumbled around until she found the control and flipped the high beams on. The road ahead was clear, and she could just see the crossing section of pavement where Highway 128 intersected with the Eagle driveway. It wasn’t even in the headlights yet, just a reflection of smooth darkness at the edge of the trees.
“You were paying attention today, weren’t you Candice?” Austin asked, sounding like he’d gotten his breath back a little. “On the range. About the guns.” Jessica glanced at him in the mirror as she felt for the control to move the seat forward a little so she could reach the pedals better.
His voice was still thick and it sounded like he was about to cough wetly with every syllable. He had unsnapped his equipment harness and peeled open his shirt. There was a wad of white gauze in his hand. There was blood on his hands and chest above a bulky armor vest that he was wearing right next to his skin.
“Yes.” Candice answered, sounding scared.
Jessica took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her hands steady on the wheel. “Candice, what you did was very dangerous. Very dangerous. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” the girl said, her voice getting smaller.
“You could have—” Jessica had to stop before she let her voice crack with a sob. Her hands were shaking some on the steering wheel as she clung to it.
“Mom’s right.” Austin said. “And if you’d missed, we would have died. And you almost did miss.”
Jessica braked sharply as the T-intersection rushed up, beginning her turn. Austin grunted as the G-forces pulled on them when the SUV swung around to the left, then again as Jessica straightened out and punched the accelerator once more.
“He was a bad guy.” Candice all but whispered.
“Yes he was.” Jessica said tightly.
“He was going to hurt you. Us.”
Austin started to say something, then grunted as he stopped himself. Jessica waited several seconds. She wanted to curl up against the w
indow and cry, but she couldn’t even allow herself the solace of closing her eyes. The draining adrenaline was leaving her feeling weak and thready, but knowing why didn’t make dealing with the quivering in her muscles any easier.
She had to stay focused on her driving. The SUV was up to seventy, and while she wanted to go faster, she was already afraid of being able to see everything ahead clearly enough to avoid wrecking. The last time she’d been behind the wheel, that’s exactly what had happened. And she was still limping because of it.
“That was incredibly dangerous.” Jessica repeated. “You could have been killed.”
“I’m sorry.” Candice whispered. “I . . . I just wanted us to be safe.”
“First chance we get, I’ll teach you about guns.” Austin said before coughing some more. “Until then, you need to listen to Mom.” he added after he found his voice again.
Jessica felt a shiver roll over her, but she held her tongue. She was right on the edge. There was too much happening right now.
“It’s okay mommy.” Candice said softly. “We’re okay.”
That was it. Jessica forced everything out of her mind except the road and the SUV. She couldn’t think about this now. There was too much to do. She blinked away a few tears that threatened to fall and focused on her driving as the SUV whipped west, keeping her thoughts blank except for the headlights and the pavement they revealed.
There was comfort in total numbness.
* * * * *
Chapter Twelve - Decisions
Peter
“Mendez, Gunny.” Peter said into the radio, lowering the map. If he was reading it right, they were only a mile or so from North Forsyth. That should be close enough.
“Yo, Gunny. We were starting to worry.”
“Yeah, well, we had some zombie problems at one of the schools.”
“You responsible for that huge plume of smoke we saw a little while ago.”
Peter grimaced. “Yup. Good story, we’ll fill you in, but what’s the situation there?”
“Pretty quiet.” Mendez answered. “We’ve shot about twenty zombies that showed up in view of the bus. No big deal.”
“How are the locals acting?”
“Oh, that State Trooper, the lieutenant, asked if we needed anything a couple of hours ago, but other than that no problems. He even let our civvies move into tents out on the fields, so they’re out of the trucks now.”
“Good. Okay, stay sharp. We’re rolling up in a minute with several hundred refugees in tow, and I’m not exactly sure how much yelling there’s going to be when the cops see them.”
“That senator Whitley was talking about is going to fucking love it.” Crawford chuckled from the driver’s seat.
“Just yelling?” Mendez asked.
Peter sighed. “Honestly, it could be more than yelling. I don’t know. But these people and the others still back at the schools are going to the camp, period.”
“I read you. We’re ready.”
“Gunny out.”
“Time to get busy.” Crawford said, still amused.
“This is serious.” Peter told her mildly. “There’s no telling how this is going to go.”
“Oh come on Gunny, it’s a bunch of cops with pistols and some shotguns and hunting rifles. What can they do?” Swanson said from the backseat.
“Object.” Peter said shortly as she turned the Humvee onto the street that led back to North Forsyth.
“The dweebs on the roadblock we already passed didn’t say anything.” he objected.
“They’re not in charge.”
“Well, neither is the cop lieutenant.”
“Yeah, but he might not know that yet.” Peter said. He found himself fingering the full magazines in his ammo pouch and made himself stop. The school appeared ahead, and Crawford slowed and made the turn. The MARTA bus was still on the front curb next to the building, with two Guardsmen visible atop it in prone positions at the front and rear of the vehicle’s roof. It looked as unmolested as Mendez had indicated. Peter pointed.
“Around the same way we came in, but stop on the curb ahead of our bus. Don’t block the way for the school buses to pull through. They’ve got other trips to make, and they’re being driven by civilians.”
She complied, swinging around to the left and circling the front lot clockwise before stopping on the curb where directed. Peter glanced around out of reflex, then opened his door. Slinging his AR, he held up a hand to stop the first school bus, then walked around to the door as it halted.
“Okay, everyone sit tight. We need to see about where you’re going first.” he said when the door opened.
“You said we were safe here.” someone near the front complained. The buses were loaded to standing room only, packed quite solid. He hadn’t bothered to count, but if there were fewer than seventy, maybe even eighty, people on each he’d be amazed. The refugees had eagerly crammed themselves in on the promise of protection and shelter. And if he understood the situation back at the school correctly, there were still at least four hundred more waiting.
“You are. Just stay on the bus so my guys don’t have to worry about you wandering around and maybe mistake you for a zombie.”
“Fine.” the driver, a middle aged woman who looked like she knew what she was doing behind the wheel nodded. “Anything’s better than where we were.”
Peter jogged back to the second bus as it pulled in behind the first, then the others in turn, repeating the same orders. A handful of people who’d gotten off the last two grumbled some, but eventually complied and reboarded so the doors could be closed. By the time he’d gotten that settled, Whitley had pulled up in the second Humvee and parked behind the MARTA bus. Everyone who’d left with him on the school trip had gathered on the sidewalk near the front of the unit’s mobile warehouse, and he walked to join them.
“Company.” Whitley said quietly as Peter reached them.
He didn’t bother to nod; he’d already seen the group emerging from the school’s front entrance. Lieutenant Kinney and three others in police uniforms, plus another six in civilian dress; but they all were armed with pistols and either shotguns or rifles. “Don’t start anything, but don’t assume shit neither.” he told the soldiers before walking past them to greet the newcomers.
“I’m assuming there’s gonna be trouble.” Oliver said humorlessly.
“Let’s hope.” Crawford muttered.
“Good news.” Peter said to the approaching group, using a light tone and wearing a smile. “Two of the schools are holding out okay, and we got to the third before the zombies that were there managed to get in and tear everyone apart.”
“What are all these people doing here?” Kinney demanded, his tone commanding and challenging. Peter ignored that and just continued smiling.
“We need to get them settled as quick as we can, because there’s at least one more load waiting, plus everyone at the other schools. If we’re lucky we’ll be able to get everyone under cover in a couple of hours.”
“I can’t let you start putting people up here. That’s not the plan right now.”
Peter let his smile fade a little. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Kinney said stubbornly. “Senator Carlson—”
“Is not in charge.” Peter said in his own command voice. “Shellie Sawyer is the designated coordinator for this site, and my job is to support her as needed.”
“We’re not set up for refugees at this time.” the trooper said stubbornly.
“This is a refugee camp. Put up the tents and hand out food and water, and what more needs to be done?” Peter asked, trying to sound reasonable. Maybe there was still a chance this could be sorted out without insanity.
“We’re not supplied to support large numbers.”
Peter gestured broadly in an arc behind him, in the general direction of Cumming proper. “Plenty of supplies at hand.”
“That we don’t have secured.”
“And what’s the time table for
all that?”
“The senator thinks—”
Peter shook his head again. “No he doesn’t.”
Kinney’s jaw clenched. “He’s concerned about further outbreaks.”
“No, he’s concerned about saving his own ass.” Peter said, giving up and going for his hardest tone.
“All these people you’re trying to help are going to be in danger if we have more zombie problems amid the population. There needs to be a clear system of containment.”
“And you’re the same as Carlson.” Peter went on, ignoring the trooper’s response. “Doesn’t matter who else dies, so long as you’re okay, right?”
The police officer’s face flushed a little, and his expression went cold. “Sergeant, I’m not going to tell you again.” Kinney said dangerously. His hand dropped to his holstered pistol, then the man froze as several clicks and metallic scrapes sounded behind Peter. The Marine knew without looking it was safeties being rotated and charging handles on M-16s being racked.
“That’s Master Gunnery Sergeant.” Peter said, projecting the authority of his decades of service as he squared off against the cop. “I haven’t been just a sergeant in over twenty years. If you’re trying to threaten a United States Marine, let me tell you now it’s a waste of time.”
“You have no authority here.” Kinney said, his hand still on the pistol.
“Oh but I do.” Peter corrected him. “The President of the United States personally ordered all members of the military to help however we can. A direct order to every man and woman in uniform. Do you see these?” he pointed, with his left hand, at the rank pins on his collar. “And this?” he shifted to the Marine Corps emblem embroidered on the front of his cap. “You’re State Police, but I’m a serving senior NCO of the US military, and that outranks you and anyone else here until someone in my chain of command changes my orders.”
“This is Georgia, I’m a Georgia State Trooper acting on direct orders from the current governor, and I say you’re all under arrest.” Kinney blustered, but Peter could see the edge of uncertainty starting to creep into the man’s expression. It was subtle – the police lieutenant hid it well – but it was there.
