by David Achord
“I’ve never been to Ohio,” Flash said. “How far is it?”
“A little over four hundred miles,” Joker answered.
“And, we’re driving nonstop?”
“That’s right,” Justin said.
“That’s why each vehicle has jerry cans. Captain Smithson told you that during the mission briefing, weren’t you listening?” Joker asked. “Dude, in the training class, we emphasized the importance of listening to the mission briefing. Shit like that’s important.”
Flash clenched his teeth together and stared at the floor of the Stryker. Joker noticed and took pity on him.
“The answer is yes, we’re driving nonstop,” he said. “Except for a five-minute stop where we’ll change over drivers and get to take a leak, if needed. Remember that?”
“Yeah, man,” Flash replied.
Justin gave him a look. “When we are on mission status, you address your superior officer by rank.”
Flash was stung at the rebuke. Joker saw and tried to lighten the mood. He glanced over at Flash and grinned.
“The captain is a hard ass when we’re on missions, but he has to be. You’ll get used to it,” he said. “We have a certain way of doing things. If we ever get into the doo-doo, you’ll all of a sudden understand why we have certain protocols.”
“Roger that, Sergeant,” Flash said after a moment. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
Joker smiled. “No problem, my man.” He hooked a thumb over toward Justin. “Captain Smithson will always do us right, and Zach there has a natural talent for this stuff, even though he ain’t a Marine.”
If Flash had gotten his feelings hurt by Justin’s rebuke, he was over it now and laughed at Joker’s jibe at me.
“This is your first mission with us, right?” Joker asked.
“Yes, Sergeant,” Flash answered.
“Well, you’re lucky to be on my team. Just stick with me, listen to orders, watch my six, and don’t accidentally shoot me.”
“Or anyone else,” Justin added.
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s going to be dark by the time we get there and we don’t have enough night vision gear for everyone,” I said. “So, stick close.”
“Are you on our team?” Flash asked.
I kept myself from rolling my eyes. Justin had read out team assignments during the briefing. I waved my hand around. “Yes. You, me, Bob, and Sergeant Joker.”
“It’s a damn good team,” Bob said.
Flash nodded. “I’ve heard stories about all of you.” He pointed at me. “You especially.”
“Well, don’t believe everything you’ve heard.” I stood. “I think I’m going to try to get a nap in. If you can keep from hitting every pothole in the road, I’d appreciate it.”
There wasn’t room to fully stretch out, so, I positioned my ruck in a corner, leaned back, and pulled my hat down over my eyes. I didn’t want to get into any storytelling about myself. I knew he was simply trying to get to know me a little better, but I wasn’t inclined to tell stories about myself.
The Stryker was not designed for comfort, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get any shuteye, but the lack of sleep from last night was catching up with me. I made myself as comfortable as possible and was asleep within a minute.
Chapter 14 – Eastgate
We reached objective Alpha, otherwise known as Eastgate Shopping Mall, at 2100 hours, or as civilians preferred to say, nine p.m. It was located in Cincinnati near I-275 and Cincinnati Batavia Pike. There were multiple roads that led to a four-lane asphalt loop that circled around the mall. Deacon Schmucker and his people had made use of the loop and stacked up various types of items to form an eight-foot-tall defensive barrier around the entire mall. It was an impressive sight of crushed cars, concrete blocks, construction debris, you name it. It would have taken a tank to blast through it.
All entrances had been blocked off by the barricade, save one, and it was blocked by a heavily fortified gate with two guard towers on either side. They even had surveillance cameras.
When we stopped, the occupants of all vehicles, with the exception of the drivers, got out and formed a defensive perimeter. I smiled to myself as I watched everyone moving with a sense of purpose. The rigorous training program was showing.
The headlights of the Stryker shone on the gate and towers. All was quiet and there was no movement whatsoever. I tried several times to raise them on the radio, but there was no response.
“Team One to all teams, kill your engines and headlights,” Justin ordered and then nodded to Joker, who used the Stryker’s optics to scan.
“I’m not seeing anything, and I’m only getting residual heat signatures,” he said.
“It’s too quiet,” Flash whispered.
He was right; once the noise from the engines abated, it was dead quiet, and, there were no lights emanating from inside the mall. I looked over at Justin.
“We need a recon,” I suggested. Justin nodded and keyed the microphone.
“Team One to Team Three and Four, recon the perimeter with your vehicles.”
Both teams replied in the affirmative and started their vehicles. They moved slowly, and after a minute, the radio crackled to life. “Team One, this is Team Four. All is quiet and dark, over.”
Justin acknowledged and ordered them to return to the main group. Growing frustrated, I grabbed Bob.
“Let’s knock on the door,” I suggested. I got a look from Justin, and although it was dark, I could sense he was frowning at me.
I already had my gear on and quickly checked my assault rifle. As soon as I exited the Stryker, I thumbed the safety to the fire position and approached the gate. I sensed a little bit of nervousness with Bob, but he followed close behind me while keeping his weapon pointed away from me.
“Hello!” I shouted out as I rapped on the metal. Again, no response. The flashlight I carried was small, but I tried it out anyway. Peering through a gap in the gate, I could see cars and various types of machinery in the parking lot, but that was it. I stepped back and turned my flashlight off, but then quickly turned it back on again.
“What is it, Zach?” Bob asked.
“Look at the sign. Notice anything different?”
When the senator and I first visited the place, we watched one of the men mount a metal “No Trespassing” sign on the gate. He said he did it to point out the irony, and then laughed at his own joke. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but did not bother asking. I pointed at it now.
“Look at the sign. It’s been altered since the last time we were here.”
Indeed, someone had taken a sharpie and wrote, “FEVER!” several times.
“Is it a warning?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Possibly.”
The two of us shouted out a couple of more times before walking back to the Stryker. I told them about the sign. Justin rubbed his face in puzzlement.
“Why don’t we get a drone up?” I suggested.
“Let’s get a drone up,” he said, like he thought of it first.
We walked back to the third vehicle, which was a Ford Expedition occupied by Kirby Jenkins and his girlfriend. Her name was Erin, and she’d been with the same group of people Flash was with in Virginia Beach. She was an average-looking twenty-something who kept her brown hair cut extremely short. I thought it looked butch, but the first day Kirby saw her, he told she was a sexy looking woman. They’d been together ever since.
He was a pro with our drones and he’d been teaching Erin how to fly them as well. They worked as a team as they unpacked the drone and the control pack. This one was a smaller surveillance model with four rotors and a camera on the bottom of it. They had two of them, and while Kirby got the first one airborne, Erin prepped the second one.
We watched the dull luminescent green of the screen as Kirby maneuvered the drone over the wall and into the compound. Kirby kept the drone at a height of twenty feet as he slowly flew it completely around the mall.
&nbs
p; “Whoa, hold on,” I said, pointing at the screen. “Go back twenty feet, drop your altitude and point the camera through those plate glass windows.”
Kirby did so, and after a few seconds, we saw several faces looking out. Kirby moved the drone as close to the windows as he dared and panned back and forth across the width of the windows.
Suddenly, one of the windows shattered due to the people on the other side pushing against it. They rushed out by the dozens, only it was obvious now they were no longer normal people.
“Shit,” Kirby growled as a couple of them lunged for the drone. He expertly maneuvered it to gain altitude, barely escaping their outstretched hands.
“Look at those things,” he remarked as he shifted the camera. “They’re all infected.”
We watched as the occupants of the mall began pouring out of the broken window. Some of them ran directly toward the gate. The fortified perimeter which was designed to keep the zeds out was now keeping them prisoner in their domain. But, it was still unnerving and I found myself gripping my rifle tightly.
“I’ve got three minutes of charge left,” Kirby advised.
“Alright, bring it in,” Justin directed.
“Are all of them really infected?” Erin asked.
“It would appear so,” Bob answered.
“But, weren’t they vaccinated?” she asked, and looked at me specifically.
“Yes, they were,” I replied.
“So, the vaccine’s no good,” Flash said.
“If that were true, we’d all be zombies by now,” Kirby said. “But, something definitely went sideways.”
We watched as the drone appeared over the wall and landed a mere two feet from us. Jenkins made it look easy.
“Do you want to put the second one up?” he asked.
“No need,” Justin answered. “We’ve seen everything we need to see. Alright, pack it all up, we’re moving out.”
“Wait, we’re leaving?” Erin asked.
“Affirmative,” Justin answered, ignoring her lack of protocol, and turned to walk back to the Stryker.
“But, there might be people in there who aren’t infected. Shouldn’t we try to rescue them?”
There was no hesitation in Justin’s response. “Negative. We’re moving out.”
Erin started to argue, but Kirby intervened. “Sweetie, any survivors have already gotten out. Somebody had to have written that warning on the sign.”
“But…”
Kirby interrupted. “Why don’t you go get in the truck and review the video recording?” he suggested. “If you spot anything, we’ll present it to these men and they’ll decide the best course of action.” He then focused on Justin. “We’ll be ready in a minute, sir.”
Erin wanted to say more, but realized the decision was final and gave a curt nod to Kirby. We walked back to the Stryker. Justin got on the radio and ordered everyone to prepare to move out.
“There aren’t any survivors in there, is there?” Flash asked quietly.
Nobody answered.
Chapter 15 – Dayton
We always tried to keep things simple. Since Eastgate was designated Objective Alpha, Objective Bravo was the designation we gave the Dayton distribution center. All of those cleaning and hygiene products had been manufactured overseas for several years, hence the need for distribution centers in the United States. The company had several of them all over the nation which distributed their products to wholesalers and retail stores.
“Alright, listen up,” I said in almost a shout to be heard over the noise of the engine. “Dayton is going to be more of the same.”
“How do you know, Zach?” Bob asked.
“I just know,” I replied. “So, we’re not going to leave it behind the way we did with Eastgate.”
Joker glanced over at me as he drove. “What’re we going to do?”
“This is why we brought the semi,” I said. “We’re going to load up with everything we can.”
I saw the confusion in Flash’s face. “They have a lot of stuff we can use, and since they’re all dead or infected, we’re going to take it.”
“You’re certain they’re dead?” Bob asked again.
“Dead or infected,” I repeated.
I saw the senator exchange a brief glance with Justin. “You’re the boss.”
Bob Duckworth and the other senators had lost a considerable amount of their perceived power when Abe Stark took control. Some of them tried their own little rebellion, but they weren’t fighters. It resulted in them being banished, which put the others in line.
Bob was once a dot-com entrepreneur who’d made millions before the political bug bit him. He was actually a decent guy, for a politician that is. He and his wife were in D.C when the balloon went up and the rest of his Mormon family were in Utah. He assumed they were all dead, or worse. However, he always had a pleasant smile, never balked at job assignments, and still attempted to contribute to the overall goals of Weather.
“Does it matter?” Flash asked. Bob glanced at him briefly, and then looked down at the floor. I spoke up.
“Senator Duckworth and I worked hard at securing an alliance with the Ohio people. I know he feels frustrated at this turn of events.”
He looked up. “Yes, I do,” he said. “A lot of good people are gone. Perished to this plague. It is a sad day.”
“Oh, man, all that work for nothing,” Flash said.
“Indeed,” Bob replied.
I had to hand it to him. He was a smooth politician.
“So, what’s so important in there?” Flash asked.
“Have you ever heard of the Proctor and Gamble Company?” Bob asked him.
“Uh, yeah, they make toothpaste and stuff,” Flash said.
Bob gave a patient smile. “Much more than toothpaste. That building is over a million square feet in size, packed to the brim with toothpaste, mouthwash, dental floss, toilet paper, feminine products, manly products, baby products, cleaning products, you name it.”
Flash’s eyes widened. “Even four-ply toilet paper?”
Bob laughed. “I imagine so.”
“Oh, man, sounds like heaven,” he said.
“We’re going to load up as much as we can and take it back to Mount Weather,” I said.
Flash looked at me in puzzlement a moment before realization came over him. “You already knew this is what we were going to do from the get-go. That’s why you had us bring trucks and why you brought the semi.”
“Yep,” I answered.
“But, how did you know?”
I gave Flash a noncommittal shrug. The truth was, I had dreamed of it. I didn’t like Brumley, but the rest of them were good people. Schmucker was a Mennonite, and even though they used electricity and modern technology, Mennonites were natural survivalists. Schmucker could do anything from butchering a cow to building a house with nothing more than hand tools. He and his people were going to be sorely missed.
It was a seventy-mile trek from the Eastgate Mall to Dayton. This route was in far better condition than the route from Weather and two hours later, we were exiting I-70 onto the Dayton International Airport Access Road. Justin called a halt at the West National Road and ordered everyone to suit up.
We’d made improvements over the years with our fighting personnel. The Marines created a training program for all of the newbies, and everyone had to pass, including me. We’d created a cohesive fighting force, but in the past whenever we rolled out, we were dressed like a bunch of ragtag rejects from a Mad Max movie. That is, until we paid a visit to Fort Lee, Virginia.
Fort Lee is one hundred fifty-two miles south of Mount Weather in Prince George. Gunnery Sergeant Merritt Burns led a scout team down there three years ago when we were exploring out past the one-hundred-mile radius. He checked in with the satellite radio and told us to bring the semi. The quartermaster office was full of equipment, including Army Combat Uniforms, or ACUs. Much to the chagrin of the Marines, all of the ACUs were the Army pattern. Even the
TAC vests. They didn’t like it, but their ACUs were so worn out they had no choice throw them away and start looking like Army men. They got the last laugh though. They’d cut off their old USMC insignias and sewed them onto their new ACUs.
The end result, we had a uniform look now, almost like a professional army. Oh, everyone seemed to like their accessories. Some people wore shin guards. Some people went with the Kevlar helmets, others refused to wear them. I had kneepads, and during the summer months, I wore a padded sleeve on my left forearm. If a zed got too close, I’d simply ram my forearm in their face. They’d instinctively bite down on it, which gave me time to either shoot them or introduce them to my machete. Currently, I had on a heavy jacket, as did almost everyone else, which would also do the trick.
Our weapons were also an amalgamation of different brands and models of firearms, but all of the rifles were 5.56 caliber and all of the handguns were 9mm. Even though we had excellent reloading equipment, our capabilities were limited by our dwindling inventory of primers and cartridge casings. Mount Weather had an ample amount for 5.56 and 9mm, not so much with other calibers. So, until we happened upon fresh brass, we were limited.
We still had ammunition in different sizes, but only in limited supply. It was the same with other munitions. We had a total of sixty Claymores, twenty-three hand grenades, and a hundred and forty rounds of M203 ammo in various configurations. The Marines had the grenades and were under strict orders to only use them in dire circumstances.
We stopped a couple of hundred yards away. Joker utilized the optic sights on the Stryker.
“The main gate is partially open,” he said. “They still have heat, but I can’t tell anything else. I think I’m picking up infrared signatures of people, but it’s hard to tell. There’s nobody manning their guard towers though.”
The four of us exited the armored vehicle and took up positions. Bob was supposed to take the passenger-side flank, but his attention was fixed on the mall. Joker had the forethought to keep an eye on our opposite flank. Our lights only did a fair job of illuminating the place. I took out my binoculars. The defensive fortifications were not as impressive as Eastgate, but they still had a wall around the warehouse consisting of fencing and concrete barricades. The first drop of sleet hit my cheek while we were back at Eastgate, and now it was thicker. There was no way we could utilize a drone in this weather. I handed the binoculars to Justin. He tried them and then sighed in frustration.
