Plague Years (Book 3): This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine

by Rounds, Mark

  “So, before we start planning how to bring down our adversary, I will entertain questions about the command structure and my motivations. I will do this one time only. What have you got?”

  “General,” said Admiral Curtis, who was in temporary command of Kitsap Naval Station after Admiral Turner’s death. “What can you tell us about General Johnson? Why was he detained and what was he doing?”

  “As far as we can tell,” said Antonopoulos carefully, “General Johnson’s aide, Captain Hansen, was secretly engaged to marry a young lady in the Tacoma community. Apparently, his parents didn’t approve so he kept the knowledge of that relationship secret. She contracted the Plague very early on, before she could get to our gate, and was captured by a local drug pusher when she tried to get Slash. She has since been kept alive and has been in contact with Hansen regularly. They apparently used her to get to Hansen.

  “Here is where the narrative gets murky and is classified, meaning tell no one outside this room. Hansen has something on General Johnson, who has been resistant to questioning. We theorize that, being General Johnson’s aide, he was able to pressure him. Hansen is willing to cooperate, if we mount an operation to retrieve his fiancée, and tell everything he knows about Johnson and what he knows about the local drug operation. I am loath to risk US servicemen on such a mission. There would be considerable intelligence potential if we made the sweep big enough, but I don’t think this is a precedent we want to set.

  “Other questions?”

  “Why are we getting a new Navy CO?” asked Colonel Mahr who was in command of the Marine Security battalion.

  “There is a large number of senior naval officers,” said Antonopoulos, “who are without duties now that the fleets are coming in from deployment and being laid up to conserve resources. From a personnel viewpoint, it didn’t make sense to promote another O-6 to Flag rank when they have admirals cooling their heels in Norfolk.”

  “Are we getting any reinforcement?” asked a voice from the back.

  “We are in better shape than most of the bases around the country,” said Antonopoulos ruefully. “They are asking what we can send them. We will need to provide for ourselves and if we can, develop enough light manufacturing to start supplying some munitions and other logistical support to other bases.”

  “What ops do you anticipate in the next few months?” asked Lassiter, who knew all too well what was coming. This was a planted question to move the meeting along before it got bogged down.

  “We have three priorities,” said Antonopoulos going to a flip chart. While they now had modest amounts of electricity, they saved it for essential purposes like communications, manufacturing, and analysis. “First, we need to get another mission off to Fairchild. With the cooperation of General Bossell, we have an airlift mission headed out soon, but we need a land route. This mission will support another of our priorities.

  “We will airlift some needed supplies, along with a heavy weapons element and a couple of Little Birds to replace air assets they lost in the attack. We are also getting some long-range recon in the air because the third priority is to take down the local leader of the opposition. He was lured out of place by my unfortunate incident yesterday and our local intel assets have kept him and some of his retainers localized. We need to get a strike force put together to capture him if possible.

  “I am going to open this discussion up to the ground force commanders to tell me what I don’t know, and after Captain Lassiter briefs you on the situation, we need to brainstorm both a capture plan and whatever support we can manage to the local intel assets to keep our adversary localized. It’s your briefing Captain Lassiter …”

  July 11th, Saturday, 12:41 pm PDT

  ThoroGold Stables, Moscow ID

  Noah Smith was taking care of Billie’s horse Rusty. He was more than a little bummed. He had heard some rumors about what was happening to his squad and had asked LT. Sage about going to join up with them. She had dissuaded him, telling Noah that they could be anywhere in a ten-mile circle. On the upside, three more horsemen had come in and volunteered for the Cavalry while he was out and he had been involved in showing them the ‘Army Way’ to take care of their mounts for the last hour. They had gone home but since it was his ‘Guard’ day, he was being useful.

  The Army had taken over ThoroGold Stables, just north of Moscow as their headquarters as it was moderately close to the National Guard Armory and had plenty of land around for training. The farmer whose wheat land was adjacent to the stable made a deal with the Cavalry to help with harvest in exchange for a share of the grain to feed the horses.

  “Noah,” said LT. Sage from outside the barn, “come look at this!”

  Noah put down the shovel he was using and went to the door of the barn and stood next to LT. Sage.

  “Geez,” said Noah, “That looks like one of those bands of Infected they told us about.”

  While they watched, the Infected were wandering through the wheat field and were grazing. They were pulling up the not quite ripe wheat and were crunching the grain. It had to play hob with their digestion, but it didn’t seem to matter.

  “Noah,” said LT. Sage urgently, “get on Doc and ride hard over to HQ and let them know what we see, there are like a thousand of them and they are moving towards Moscow at the mosey right now, but they could get all agitated at any time.”

  “What about the other horses?” asked Noah as he gathered saddle and tack. There were their two spare horses, Tumbleweed and Mugs left over from a family that had died early from the Plague. Then there were the three new horses, Dakota, Jim Bean, and Gary Owen and LT. Sage’s own Fluffy. There were clearly too many for her to handle on her own.

  “Dang it,” said Sage vehemently. “Take Tumbleweed and Mugs with you. They lead pretty well. I’ll get the others. Don’t forget your rifle.”

  “Got it right here,” said Noah. Like a lot of his gear, his weapons were also hand-me-downs. He had his dad’s old Ruger Security Six revolver and Grampa’s old M-1 carbine. He was still proud that he was serving, but sometimes it felt like all he did was fetch and carry.

  After gathering the horses and getting the tack straight Noah got all three horses moving. The best he could do leading two other horses was a fast trot. As he looked over his shoulder, he saw LT. Sage struggling with the horses. The Infected were now taking an interest and were running toward the barn.

  “Lieutenant!” shouted Noah over his shoulder. “They’re at the pump house!”

  “I can see ‘em!” shouted Sage. “Git a move on and report! I’ll manage!”

  Noah gathered up his charges and hustled south toward the Armory. He had hardly moved a hundred yards when heard the boom of LT. Sage’s pump shotgun. Up to this point, Noah had been treating his horses gently, trying to encourage rather than lead but now, he became very aggressive and got them moving significantly faster. He rode down the road until he got to the first row of houses. Out in the front lawn was fourteen-year-old Fiona Strickland with her mother, Mary who was negotiating for vegetables out of a truck garden there.

  “Mom, look!” said Fiona. “Horses! maybe we can get them to help move the food.”

  Mary looked up the list of foodstuffs she was working over.

  “Guardsman,” said Mary, “What is your name?”

  “Private Noah Smith Ma’am.”

  “Where are you headed with those horses?” asked Mary.

  “Ma’am,” said Noah courteously, “There are over a thousand Infected not half a mile from here. I need to get these horses to the Guard armory and tell Captain Maitland. Then I need to get back to LT. Sage as there isn’t much that she can do to stop them. I can’t tarry Ma’am.”

  Mary was always good in a pinch where she had to make a quick decision and that ability didn’t fail her now.

  “Fiona! Get on that horse and get those horses back to the Amory so this Guardsman can get back to his duty post.”

  “Fiona?” asked Noah urgently, “can you rid
e?”

  “I was riding before you were Noah Smith,” came Fiona’s tart reply. Fiona had gone to watch her brother drill at the Amory several times and had noticed Noah and seen him on a horse. Noah was more than a passable horseman and Fiona admired that. Besides, she thought he was cute.

  “Then get on Mugs here and lead Tumbleweed back to the Armory,” said Noah as he jumped off and started to remove his saddle. “Tell them that a thousand Infected are coming down Mountain View. I have to go help LT. Sage!”

  “Keep your saddle!” said Fiona as she climbed the fence and then mounted Mugs bareback with a leap. Mugs shied a little but Fiona had been in riding lessons since she could walk so she handled it well, then she took Tumbleweed’s halter and headed toward the Armory. Noah had to admit that she was going faster than he could.

  Noah turned his horse back toward the stable. He could see LT. Sage struggling with her mount. Dakota had gotten spooked and was crosswise in front of the other three horses. She had been firing her shotgun, but it was back in the scabbard and likely empty. She was trying to get a shot with her Colt Commander at the two Infected men who were trying to get at her but the horses were bucking and halting and made a shot chancy at best. Dakota had already kicked one of the Infected and broke his leg, though the man was still stumbling towards LT. Sage.

  Noah left his seat on Doc and dropped the reins. He had been training his horse to stop when the reins hit the ground. He hoped that the horse would stay put but his training had shown him that firing accurately from horseback was damned difficult. He felt he had to risk it even though they could ill afford to lose a horse. Noah hit the ground, rolled into a prone position, and began firing at the Infected. His second round took the uninjured hostile in the chest. The .30 M-1 carbine had little stopping power but it also meant that it wouldn’t over penetrate and hit one of the precious horses. It took two more rounds to put him down.

  The other was kicked again by Dakota. The Infected man fell to the ground and tried to crawl away. Jim Beam put a stop to that by stomping him several times. Noah shifted his fire to another of the Infected ambling up to the pump house, giving LT. Sage time to get Dakota settled. Then Sage came at him at the trot.

  “I told you to git!” shouted Sage as she caught up to Noah. “Who is going to tell the Colonel?”

  “Fiona Strickland and her mom,” said Noah as he mounted Doc, “are headed in on Mugs with Tumbleweed.”

  “They’re civilians?!” shouted Sage outraged.

  “And Fiona rides better than I do!” said Noah in retort. “Besides, her dad is that Air Force Captain, you know, the one they call ‘The Deadhead’ and it looked like you were having some trouble.”

  “I was at that,” said Sage somewhat subdued. “Thanks.”

  “Let’s get back to the Armory and see what they want us to do,” said Noah who covered his embarrassment by mounting his horse and spurring him on. As they cleared the corner at Mountain View Park, they were surprised to see several of the residents taking positions in and around parked cars with a motley collection of rifles and shotguns. Sage reined up and regarded them.

  “There are upwards of a thousand Infected coming,” said Sage in a loud voice. “You better get back to the Fairgrounds and we can rally there.

  “Like fun we will,” said one of the residents. “If they trash our homes, we won’t last the winter. Help us or keep riding, but we aren’t leaving.”

  “Damnit!” said Sage as she got off her horse. “Are you sure Fiona and her mom are going to get to the Armory?”

  “She was the one that came through shouting about the Infected,” said one the homeowners who had been listening in. “Other folks are coming too.”

  As they watched several other people with weapons came up. One of the residents laid what looked like chunks of tire rims across the road.

  “What’s you got there, Don?” said one of the residents perplexedly.

  “Homemade claymores,” said Don Kaag, a retired Marine officer who lived a little way back on Mountain View Road. “I picked this idea up in the Improvised Munitions School back in the Corps.”

  “Noah,” said LT. Sage, “get the horses out of here!”

  “Not this time, Ma’am,” said Noah. “I’m needed here.”

  “I’ll take the horses,” said Fiona.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” asked a surprised Noah.

  “I have been to the Armory and now I am back,” said Fiona who then turned to LT. Sage and offered a note. “Captain Maitland sends his regards Ma’am, and says I am to give you this.”

  “Noah,” said LT. Sage quietly after Fiona walked over to where her mother was steadying Mugs. “You and I are the only military members that will be out here for the immediate future. You know that with four companies of militia, we normally keep one of them training and one on alert and the other two are out trying to keep food on the table.

  “Well, for this two-day cycle we did have one company training. One of the platoons from that company is out God knows where on an intelligence mission along with two of our six machine guns. One has been sent to Pullman and the other is the reserve. The Cav is all out searching for bad guys as you well know. The recall has gone out of course, but this message says we are kind of on our own for a bit. I have been given permission to send you back on account of your age.”

  “I am not going,” said Noah who, after a noticeable pause added, “Ma’am.”

  “So, I am not going to give you an order you won’t obey,” said LT. Sage, “but when I say bug out, don’t dawdle. You mom would skin me alive if I got you killed. Now go set up on the east side of the road and take a couple of these folks with you if they will come. Everybody is taking cover over by the cars and the Infected will just avoid them if they can.”

  “Yes Ma’am,” said Noah as he headed off to the barrow pit where LT. Sage pointed. The Sage raised her voice to speak to the forty or so residents that had taken up arms.

  “Those of you with rifles,” said LT. Sage in a loud voice, “Begin firing as soon as you have a good target. Those of you with shotguns, hold your fire until they clear the corner. Then be careful with your fire. I suspect we will run out of ammo before we run out of Infected unless you hold your fire until you can be sure of getting a hit.”

  Sage then checked her coveted M-4. It was the only fully automatic weapon out here. She hoped the recall would go faster than it had in their exercises, but she knew in her heart that it probably wouldn’t. She could only hope that the Infected would try to go around rather than through them.

  July 11th, Saturday, 1:02 pm PDT

  The Commons Building, University of Idaho, Moscow, WA.

  “Sir, I need to talk to Captain Lassiter or General Antonopoulos,” said Chad urgently. “We are under attack.”

  “Lassiter and Antonopoulos are in a meeting,” said Captain Nixon. “Their orders are not to be disturbed unless the situation is dire. What do you have?”

  “We have three bands of Infected, each upwards of a thousand, roaming around the general area where Nergüi is located,” said Chad urgently into the sat phone. “We also have another three bands, each estimated at over a thousand attacking the Moscow-Pullman area. We are currently engaged with one on the east side of Moscow. Another is spilling over the pass on Moscow Mountain. The last is on the outskirts west of Pullman. That one is particularly worrisome as the folks in Pullman are not nearly as well prepared as we are. We have approximately thirty civilian monitors and perhaps twice that many police trying to defend against it. We have sent a platoon in a bus but we have only enough gas to send one. We have another on foot but it won’t be there for at least an hour. We need some sort of support soon.”

  “I will interrupt the meeting,” said Nixon. “You hold the line.”

  There was a silence for what seemed like an eternity and then Nixon came back on the line.

  “This is going to take more time,” said Nixon. “I’m going to hand carry this into the
meeting.”

  “There is something else you ought to know,” said Chad, “the local commander, LTC Amos has formally requested we return the troops of his that we are using for our intel op. The request is important because there are six machine guns in the armory. Two are M-249s and the rest are mature M-60’s. They have squat for other heavy weapons and the two equipping our operation are an important piece of their firepower. We also have all their Cav in the field which they would like to recall.”

  “Understood,” said Nixon. “I’ll be back at you as soon as I can.”

  Captain Nixon tapped on the door of the conference room. A harried looking Lieutenant opened the door.

  “I need to speak to Captain Lassiter,” said Nixon. “There is a development with the intelligence mission that is critical.”

  The young officer nodded and waved him in. Nixon went over to where Lassiter was sitting underneath a volley of scowls launched by senior officers around the table and handed him the note he had prepared. Lassiter looked at it angrily but nodded to Nixon, then motioned for him to stay.

  “General, I think we need to attend to this,” said Lassiter, interrupting Colonel Hodges who commanded Madigan Medical Center. “Our intelligence operation in eastern Washington is in jeopardy. Moscow is under attack.”

  “What is the situation …” began Antonopoulos. But he was interrupted before Lassiter could begin.

  “This is exactly what I was talking about,” said Captain Bussard, Commander of the sub base at Bangor. “We have real problems on this base and in the Seattle Tacoma area. Why are we chasing around the plains in Eastern WA, when …”

  “That will be enough, Captain,” said Antonopoulos interrupting his interrupter. “A defensive posture will mean our inevitable defeat. It was my impression that they taught midshipmen at the Naval Academy about Sun Tzu and von Clausewitz.”