“Sleeping. He’s fine. He sleeps really well through the night. One of his better talents.”
“Okay. Why are you up here? You should be sleeping, too.” Hastings grabbed her arm to steer her toward the kitchen.
She resisted. “Where are you taking me?”
“Back into the kitchen. Sergeant Ballantine is asleep on the couch.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She relented and allowed him to lead her into the other room. Hastings stayed in the doorway, where he could keep an eye on the living room.
“You need something?” he asked.
“Like what? A hug?”
Hastings shook his head. “I’m the wrong guy for that. Just asking if you needed anything.”
“Yeah, I’d like for the power to come on so I can watch True Blood on TV.”
“Out of luck again. Thanks for stepping up and helping with Kenny.”
Diana sighed and sank to the floor to sit with her back to the wall. “I’m not exactly the motherly type. Before those fuckers killed his parents, he wouldn’t even look at me, which was fine. To tell you the truth, as soon as I found another group, I was going to ditch them.”
That didn’t surprise Hastings a bit. “Why?”
“They were living on a wing and a prayer. The only reason I was with them was because they had food, and I figured more eyes was better than only two. They weren’t really very well armed, only a shotgun and a pistol, but it was more than what I had.”
“You have a pistol, too,” Hastings said. “Or was that theirs?”
“I lifted it off a dead guy in Boston, some old man who’d been mauled by zombies. All that was left was half a skeleton and a gun belt. I blew through the ammo trying to get out of the city and never found any more.” She paused. “You guys don’t happen to have any three-eighty, do you?”
“No. Not our caliber. We have five-five-six, nine mil, and fifty cal. Three-eighty’s kind of a wimpy round. You’ll do a lot better with that Sig we gave you. Where is that, by the way?”
“Downstairs. I handed it to Kay before I left. She’s still awake.”
“Her boys all right?”
“Yeah. They’re fine.”
“Sit tight.” Hastings returned to the living room and looked through the gun slit in the front window. The reekers were still moving past. He returned to the kitchen and watched Diana for a moment through his goggles.
“What?” she asked, apparently sensing his observation.
“You ditch Kenny’s family back at the roadblock?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Hell, yes. Without any ammunition, what was a girl on a Suzuki going to do? Best thing I could do was get the hell out of there. Just plain luck that I found you guys. Had no idea you were down the road.”
“So you just left them,” Hastings said. “With a defenseless autistic kid?”
She looked up at him, even though she couldn’t possibly see him. “What did you want me to do, General? Die with them?”
He ignored the question. “Where were you headed? Before getting jumped by Frank and his crew?”
“The husband had a sister outside of Philly. He wanted to try to meet up with her down there. After that, they were talking about going to Georgia.”
“Philly’s gone,” he said. “We didn’t get close to it to check it out, but we saw it was on fire.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. What about us? What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Road movement to a place called Fort Indiantown Gap. It’s a big Army National Guard base in Pennsylvania. Pretty much out in the boonies, but it’s the closest installation to us that might still be operational. It was a designated evacuation site, and they have a little bit of everything there. If it’s still up and operating, we should be good to go.”
“You in contact with them?”
“Nope.”
“So you don’t actually know this place is still there, right?”
He glanced back into the living room. “That’s correct. All I’m saying is that it’s our next objective. If it’s not still operational, we move on. If it is, we’ll hopefully have the opportunity to kick back and figure out our next move.”
“Will they let in a stripper from Boston who’s nursemaiding an autistic kid?”
“I’m sure they would.”
She snorted. “Sure, a bunch of horny Army guys could always find something for me to do.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be anything like that. Whatever you did before doesn’t matter now. What you do from this day forward does.”
Diana rested her head against the wall behind her. “Before, I could make twelve hundred bucks a night.”
“Sounds like a lot of lap dances.”
“Lap dances? Ha. That was for the college kids, or maybe some drunks on a guys’ night out. I’d make four hundred bucks an hour fucking businessmen.”
Hastings sighed. “Good to know.”
“Will there be someone there to take care of Kenny?”
“Don’t know, but I’m sure there will be.”
“Well, if there’s nothing there, or if the place is full of zombies, what do we do then?”
Hastings had been contemplating that for some time. It was tough to work out a plan for every contingency, especially since he didn’t have a full idea of what was going down in the rest of the nation.
At first, the outbreaks had been isolated to a few cities on the Eastern Seaboard—Boston, New York, and DC. Later, additional outbreaks had been reported in other cities, such as Miami, Philadelphia, and Houston. By then, things were in full swing in New York, and the entire 10th Mountain Division was engaged with trying to hold the city together long enough for some sort of cure to be created and delivered. That didn’t leave a lot of time to listen to news reports, and his commanders weren’t interested in delivering information that had nothing to do with TF Manhattan’s mission. But the troops were always talking, and Hastings caught unverified reports of outbreaks in California and Washington, as well as a few of the mountain states and several in the Midwest. The tactical picture changed quite a bit, and Hastings spent most of his time tending to his unit. There were desertions, and the number of walking corpses seemed to increase exponentially, almost overnight. By the time it was understood that TF-MAN was no longer going to be able to just contain the city but had to actively begin destroying every reeker it could find, it was too late. There weren’t enough men, and there wasn’t enough time. The remains of Hastings’s company had barely had enough time to get across the George Washington Bridge before it had been blown up.
After that, they had to fight through thousands of zombies in New Jersey. Only Hastings, Guerra, Hartman, Reader, Stilley, and Tharinger had made it out. Stilley wasn’t even a member of Hastings’s light infantry unit—he was a simple wrench-turner with a truck company. He hadn’t even had a proper lightfighter load-out, but it hadn’t been tough to get him squared away. They’d found more than a little bit of abandoned gear throughout the area. And even though Stilley was a loudmouth jerk-off who annoyed his fellow soldiers to no end, he could still shoot a carbine and drive a Humvee.
“We’ll move on,” Hastings said finally. “We’ll keep going west until we receive instructions or until we find a safe place to put you guys. The entire nation hasn’t gone dark yet, so there will still be communities out there. We had a couple of months’ notice when Europe started having outbreaks. There will be fortified communities, and there will still be a military presence.”
“And what if we get all the way to California, and we don’t find anything, General? What then? Take a boat and sail to Hawaii?”
“We’ll turn right and start making our way north. Have a problem with chilly nights and moose? Because there’s a lot of that in Canada.”
Diana snorted. “Pretty picture.”
“You squared away now?”
“Got a cigarette for a little Asian stripper who’s lost her way, General?”
Hastin
gs shook his head. “You’re out of luck, little Asian stripper. Besides, you couldn’t smoke here, anyway. It might give us away.”
Diana leaned her head against the wall again. “Damn. This end-of-the-world shit sucks.”
“Get back downstairs,” Hastings said then returned to the living room.
*
Dawn was a purple smear on the horizon when Ballantine woke him up a few hours later. He had slept deeply, and without any dreams, on the lumpy sofa while Ballantine stood watch for the rest of the night.
“Zombies are still out there,” Ballantine reported. “None closed on the house, probably because they couldn’t see it. That might change when it gets more light out.”
“Yeah, I know. Anything else to report?”
“Yeah. Stilley’s kind of learned how to whisper.”
Hastings snorted. “Miracles do happen, even in the land of the zombie.”
Ballantine nodded. “Yes, sir, I guess they do.”
Hastings checked his watch. “We should get ready to go. We’ll need to make some miles, and we might have to go overland if the reeker population is too dense. I’d rather not get caught up trying to fight through them if we can avoid it.”
“We also need to do weapons maintenance and PMCS the vehicles. The fifty and forty could stand some TLC.” Ballantine nodded toward the rear of the house. “There aren’t any reekers in the back forty, not that we could see anyway.”
Hastings peeked around the barricade over the front window. Full daylight was about twenty minutes away, at least—enough time to service the vehicle-mounted weapons as long as no one made too much noise. “Who do you like?”
“Guerra and Tharinger. They’re both sacked out.”
“Okay. They shouldn’t expose themselves if they can avoid it. Send them down, then you take a stand upstairs. I’ll keep watch down here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks, Sergeant.”
“No problem, Captain. It’s what I’m here for.” Ballantine pointed at the cellar door. “What about them?”
“Leave them where they are for the moment. Let’s get the weapons and vehicles ready, so we can jump out in the short order.”
*
No one was in a very good mood when the day got in full swing. Kenny was irritable and anxious and refused to eat. His surliness infected Ballantine’s boys, and they became taciturn and a bit unruly, despite Kay’s attempts to keep all three of them in line. Diana was still prickly and cold, but she allowed Kenny to play with her hair in a bid to placate him and keep his outbursts to a minimum.
Hastings left the children to the two women and went to stand watch near the left rear corner of the house, providing cover for Guerra and Tharinger as they cleaned the weapons and serviced the Humvees. A coating of dew made the vehicles glisten in the morning’s growing light. It took the soldiers twenty minutes to remove, break down, clean, and reassemble the MK19 and M2, and the soft clinks and clacks their work generated made the hairs on the back of Hastings’s neck stand up. Any one of those small noises could attract a reeker, and it took only one to ruin their day.
He peeked around the corner of the house at the zombies continuing to shamble past. He had no idea where they were headed, but his group would have to go in the same direction before cutting south. He had reviewed his maps and found that the National Guard facility was actually fairly close to Philadelphia. They’d been within striking distance of it days ago, before heading north to the shattered remnants of Fort Drum. So they were essentially heading back the way they had come.
Hastings prayed there was someone at Indiantown Gap who could take over for him and be in charge for a while so he could grieve and work on getting himself squared away. The deep hollowness he felt inside was, in a way, strangely seductive. He found he no longer feared the reekers. He couldn’t even muster the energy to hate them. They merely existed, and so did he. He would destroy as many of them as he could, of course, but not out of fear. Combat was perhaps the only thing that could fill the emptiness where his soul had once lived, and action helped take his mind off the loss of his family.
Guerra and Tharinger finished with the weapons and returned to the house. Hastings ordered them to wash up and eat then relieve the troops upstairs so they could do the same. The sun had just crested the horizon when he judged everyone was as ready as they would ever be.
“Everyone squared away?” he asked Ballantine.
“Good to go, sir.”
“All right. Let’s get everyone out. Stilley, Hartman, you guys got the Humvees. Ballantine, your family rides with Stilley. Diana and Kenny will ride with Hartman. Guerra, you get the Mark; Tharinger, you have the fifty. Reader, you’ll go with Ballantine in his truck, and I’ll take the last one. Feedback?”
“Maybe Kenny and the lady should ride with Stilley,” Hartman said.
“Hell, no,” Stilley said. “I don’t want that screamin’ kid with me.” He gave Diana a sheepish look. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“Don’t apologize to me for being a stupid prick,” Diana said.
“Can we watch the language, please?” Kay admonished, indicating the children.
“Gee, sorry about the harsh language in the middle of the zombie apocalypse,” Diana replied with a smirk.
“Hartman, they’re with you,” Hastings said. “Stilley, try to be mindful of where you are and who you’re with. Diana? Go wash your mouth out with soap.”
“Ha-ha,” she said.
“Sorry, sir,” Stilley said.
Hastings waved the apology away. “Just do what you’re told. Ballantine, I’d like the kids and ladies to be escorted out after we’ve secured the vehicles. They’re not far away, and as far as we can tell, no reekers are in the yard, but let’s keep eyes out just to be safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll have your family load up first. That way, if Kenny starts making noise, we won’t have to worry about loading up anyone else other than grunts. Cool?”
“Perfect, sir.”
“Let’s get it done,” Hastings said. “We’ve got about three hundred miles to go before we get to Indiantown Gap.”
He turned away when Ballantine went to hug his sons.
*
They made it into the vehicles without incident. Everyone started their rides on Hastings’s signal, and all engines lit up with no issues. Even though they had civilians in them, the armored Humvees pulled out first from their positions on either side of the house and made their way down the driveway, followed by the two pickup trucks. The zombies on the road turned toward the cackling sounds of the diesel engines.
“Hit ’em if you have to,” Hastings said over the radio.
As soon as he had spoken, the .50 began firing. Tharinger blasted a path through the dozen or so reekers in his vehicle’s path. A few of them were killed, and the rest just staggered beneath the force of the heavy impacts, ignoring the incredible damage the big bullets caused. Even though he had seen it before, Hastings was still impressed that an enemy could have an arm or a leg blown off and still keep coming. It served as a gruesome reminder that there was no negotiating in the new war. Fear was nothing to the reekers. They only existed to feed or to spread whatever infection they carried. There would be no ceasefires, no truces, no peace plans. The war would end only after the dead—or the living—had been eradicated from the face of the planet.
There was no order to the battle. The .50 cal sliced a path through the zombies, and the vehicles rushed through it. The pickup Hastings drove bounced up and down as it rolled over several corpses, some of them still moving. Not slowing at all, he toed the accelerator and urged the pickup onward, its tires spinning momentarily as they shredded flesh beneath their treads. Sandwiched between the Humvees, he couldn’t do much, so he just drove, keeping his eyes on the vehicle ahead of him as it bulled through the reekers, sending them flying. After a minute or two, Tharinger stopped raking fire across the zombies near the Humvee and started reaching out farther, h
ammering the corpses that stood in the road. The zombies tried to close in the gaps after the Humvee surged past, so Hastings slalomed the loaded pickup from side to side, slamming into the walking cadavers and keeping the passage as wide as he could for the following vehicles.
One zombie managed to grab the driver’s side mirror, and Hastings dragged it along as it pressed its pallid face against the tempered safety glass, blackened tongue lolling. It disappeared when the mirror suddenly snapped off, and he felt the pickup shudder as the left rear tire rolled over the corpse. Ahead, more corpses danced as .50-caliber rounds slashed through them, taking arms off at shoulders and pulping skulls. The Humvee rolled right over the organic mess, and Hastings found the on-the-fly switch and dropped the truck into four-wheel drive. Off to the right, he heard the muted thunderclaps of 40-millimeter grenades going off, and he glanced over to see a herd of zombies being blasted into shreds by Guerra’s MK19. It was a beautifully gruesome sight.
They drove and fought for almost half an hour. After the first ten minutes, the guns fell mostly silent, as it was more efficient to just mow the corpses down with the heavy Humvee in the lead and save the .50-cal ammo for more precarious circumstances. Hastings was surprised to see just how many zombies there were—the number was somewhere in the low thousands. Even though the Humvees had full tanks and the pickups weren’t bad off in the fuel department, he began to wonder just how they would be able to pull off a rescue if one of the vehicles suddenly died. All of them were taking a pounding, the lead Humvee more than the rest, but Hastings’s pickup was already battered and beaten. A glance in the rearview mirror showed that Ballantine’s truck was in better shape—Hastings couldn’t blame him for being more conservative, since his family was aboard—but it would never pass muster as a show truck.
Hastings knew they would lose a vehicle. It was just a matter of when. We’ll just have to deal with that when it happens.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, revealing more of the fields and meadows around them. Zombies seemed to be everywhere, sometimes in dense packs like roving herd animals, other times spread farther apart. All of them seemed to be headed in mostly the same direction—west. That didn’t matter much with regards to the road movement he and the rest of the troops were undertaking, since their plan was to head dead south on Route 26, toward Rome. While the most direct route would have been to take Interstate 81, Hastings and Ballantine both felt it would be best to avoid what would likely be a complex and chaotic snarl of traffic, survivors, and zombies around Syracuse. And they knew that civilians would look to them for assistance they could not provide, which would slow them down even more.
These Dead Lands: Immolation Page 11
