Hastings avoided contact with the fortresses. His convoy had weapons those people would likely fancy, as well as some supplies and their armored vehicles. And there was nothing the towns could offer him or his people that would be worth the exchange.
The convoy wound its way through eastern Pennsylvania. Hastings knew there was a horde of reekers still coming out of New York City, and Fort Indiantown Gap was only a hundred fifty miles west of the great metropolis. He had to wonder if heading to Indiantown Gap would wind up being a wise move in the long run. Even if the National Guard had managed to keep the reservation secure, the troops there would be hard-pressed to hold out against the eventual onslaught of hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions, of flesh-eating zombies.
He eventually decided that it didn’t really matter. If Indiantown Gap fell, Hastings and his group would either be killed or find themselves on the road again.
On the afternoon of the third day, the column was moving down Pennsylvania Route 443. The two-lane blacktop highway was mostly deserted, and the farmhouses they passed looked abandoned. Untended cornfields wilted under the heat of the blazing sun. One house had burned to the ground, leaving only blackened chunks of bricks rising into the air like the bones of some great fallen beast. Something moved amidst the destruction, and Hastings saw a gaunt figure clad in threadbare rags turn toward the convoy as it motored past. Another zombie. He glanced over to check the side-view mirror on the passenger side before he remembered that it was gone. He turned and looked out the rear window. Through the gaps of the stuff in the truck’s bed, he saw the ghoul stumble out onto the road, looking after the vehicles with empty eyes.
Route 443 snaked south then veered west. Hartman’s Humvee led the column toward a three-way intersection on the outskirts of Indiantown Gap, where the aptly named Moonshine Road met Ridge and Tomstown Roads. Hastings looked around, studying the area and seeking any sign of an active military presence. There was nothing but trees and brush.
Hartman suddenly slammed on the brakes, and Hastings swore as he stomped on the truck’s brake pedal. Even with ABS, he wasn’t going to be able to stop before the truck’s grille met the Humvee’s rear bumper, so he wrenched the steering wheel to the left, taking the loaded pickup into the opposite travel lane. With screeching tires, he finally came to a halt. Behind him, Ballantine’s pickup and Stilley’s Humvee rolled to a halt.
Hastings saw what had caused Hartman to stop so suddenly. Three M1126 Stryker infantry combat vehicles sat in the three-way intersection ahead, their remote-controlled weapons trained directly on Hartman’s Humvee in the middle of the road. One Stryker’s Protector Remote Weapon System turret slewed to the right, pointing directly at Hastings’s idling pickup truck. The system was equipped with a three-barreled GAU-19, an electrically driven .50-caliber heavy machine gun that could turn his truck into shredded sheet metal and plastic with one burst. He was impressed. He’d never seen such a system mounted on anything other than a helicopter.
“Uh, Six, this is Three. Over.”
Hastings keyed his radio. “Three, this is Six. Over.”
“Six, I think we’ve found Indiantown Gap. Over.” Hartman sounded a little stressed, and Hastings saw Reader slowly let go of his M2’s grips and hold up his hands.
“Roger that, Three. Stay where you are. I’m dismounting to have a chat with them. Over.”
Hastings put the pickup in park and unsnapped his seat belt. He kept his eyes on the Strykers and debated if he should take his rifle with him. It might alarm the Guardsmen if he presented himself with a weapon, but at the same time, it was too dangerous to go outside unarmed. He pulled his M4 with him as he exited the truck.
The GAU-19 stayed on him. Hastings kept it slow and easy, walking toward the Strykers with his rifle in his hands, held at low ready. As he walked past Hartman’s Humvee, the soldiers inside glanced at him before locking their gazes on the armored vehicles ahead. Hastings ignored them and kept going, mindful of the turreted weapon that tracked with him. He stopped fifty feet from the lead Stryker.
When nothing happened, he shrugged. “Guys, we come in peace. We’re from Tenth Mountain.”
After a long, nerve-wracking moment, a hatch opened. A helmeted vehicle operator stood up in the opening. “Any of you infected?” He wore sunglasses beneath his helmet, which served to make his face almost unreadable.
“No, we’re all good. No one’s been bitten,” Hastings said.
“How many?”
“Seven lightfighters, five civilians. We heard the Gap was a safe zone. That true?”
“Ain’t no place safe now, sir. What task force were you with?”
“Task Force Manhattan.”
The soldier grunted. “No shit. We thought you guys were all dead.”
“Most of us are. Listen, we’ve been on the road for days. You going to let us in?”
“Not my call, sir. We’ll ask. For now, you should get back in your vehicle and wait. Don’t get too nervous, but we’re going to keep you guys covered until our commander tells us otherwise.” There wasn’t a hint of apology in the Stryker soldier’s voice.
“I got that.”
“What radio freq are you using?”
“You can get me on one sixty-eight point eight. TAC Three. Call sign is Crusader One One.”
“One six eight eight. Roger that.” The soldier retreated back inside the Stryker and closed the hatch after him.
Hastings stepped back and executed a quick area scan. Other than the idling vehicles, he saw nothing untoward. He doubted that would last. He walked back to his truck. He’d left the door open, so he checked the interior quickly before sliding inside. The cab was warm, even though the air-conditioning had been running.
He keyed his radio. “Troops, this is Six. Strykers are calling us in. Stay put, and wait for me to contact you with movement orders. Out.”
Hastings sat and waited, keeping an eye out for any reekers that might try to sneak up on the parked vehicles. He had to turn in his seat a few times, since the missing side-view mirror reduced his ability to survey that side of the truck. Nothing stirred in the hot afternoon other than leafy branches waving languidly in the light breeze.
“Crusader One One, this is Stryker Four. Over.”
Hastings keyed his radio. “Stryker Four, this is Crusader One One. Go ahead. Over.”
“Crusader One One, you’re good to enter. Head down Moonshine and report to the reserve force. They’ll be the guys with the Bradleys. Over.”
“Roger that, Stryker Four. And thanks. Over.”
“Don’t thank us yet, Crusader. Stryker Four, out.”
*
The reserve force held up the convoy for ten minutes while soldiers dressed in Mission Oriented Protective Posture IV gear searched each person for any obvious signs of bites or infection. Everyone had been ordered out of their vehicles at gunpoint, which Hastings understood but still thought was a little harsh. The military members of Hastings’s group were first, and each man had to strip down to his skivvies for a physical inspection.
“You guys aren’t going to be doing this to my wife,” Ballantine told the masked soldiers.
“I will do it for the women,” the female second lieutenant said.
“Like hell,” Ballantine said.
“Carl, it’s all right,” Kay said.
“Ballantine, let’s just get it over with,” Hastings added. “I’m sure the lieutenant will try to make some arrangements for the modesty of females.”
“No one gets out of sight of the big guns,” the lieutenant said. “Sorry.” She waved at Diana. “You’re next, ma’am.”
Diana tried to step out of the line, but Kenny had a hammerlock on her. He was clearly terrified of the new soldiers in their MOPP gear. Clad in gas masks and protective overgarments, the soldiers undoubtedly looked like nightmarish storm troopers to the boy.
“Come on, kid,” Diana said with a long-suffering sigh as she tried to pull away. Kenny screamed and began to cry
. In the grips of his fear, he was strong enough to bring Diana to her knees.
“Stop it!” Diana shouted at him.
“Guys, the boy’s autistic,” Hastings told the soldiers. “He doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“Are you his mother?” the lieutenant asked Diana.
“Do I look like his mother?” Diana shot back. “Do those masks you’re wearing make me look like I have round eyes and blond hair? You guys are scaring the shit out of him!”
“Sorry, ma’am,” the lieutenant stated flatly. “We still gotta do what we gotta do. Both of you step forward. Everyone stay cool. We’re not going to hurt him, but we have to do a preliminary check before we release you to the decon area.”
“He’s not bitten, you assholes!” Diana snapped.
“Sorry,” the lieutenant repeated, again with no actual remorse. “Both of you step forward. Captain, your guys are clear, so you can help the lady up.”
“Hey, Lieutenant,” Guerra said. “You said there’s a decon station down the way? So we’re going to have to go through this again?”
The lieutenant nodded. “You got it, Sergeant. We’re not taking chances here. Suck it up.”
“Outstanding,” Guerra muttered.
The lieutenant nodded to Diana. “You want to help the kid get undressed?”
She snorted. “He’s all yours, sweetheart.”
The lieutenant stared for a moment then pointed at her. “Down to your underwear, ma’am.”
Diana glowered as she started shucking off her clothes. She wasn’t shy about it, probably because of her past profession, and in seconds, she was stripped down to her bra and bikini panties. She held out her arms and turned in a circle. Even though she was small, Diana was a total hard body, lean and muscular. Her augmented breasts didn’t look goofy on her after all, Hastings thought.
Diana smirked. “Get what you were looking for?”
“Yes, ma’am. You can put your clothes back on, please.”
Diana bent over and picked up her jeans. As she tugged them on, she looked directly at Hastings. He looked away but not before he caught her sardonic smile.
“Will you help us with the boy?” the lieutenant asked Diana.
Diana pulled on her T-shirt, which was difficult given that Kenny had already latched his arms around her waist. “Why don’t you make it easier on everyone and leave the kid alone?” she said. “He doesn’t understand what’s going on. You people look worse than the zombies. He probably doesn’t even recognize you as people. Give him a break. He’s not really ready to deal with the zombie apocalypse.”
The lieutenant shook her head. “Can’t do that, ma’am. My orders are explicit.”
“Lieutenant, maybe you should contact your area commander and find out if your orders cover the mentally challenged,” Hastings suggested. “The boy can’t control himself, so the chances of him being compliant are pretty slim, and because of that, the chances that you’ll injure him go through the roof.”
The lieutenant motioned toward Diana. “Seems like the lady here could help us through that, sir. If she gave a damn.”
Diana snorted.
“How about it?” Hastings asked her.
Diana spun on him. “How about what?”
Hastings shook his head. The woman was just being a bitch. “How about you help the troops here with Kenny?”
“Only if you change his fucking diaper next time, General.” She sat down and pulled on her socks. Kenny went down with her, a stricken expression on his face.
“I’ll do that,” Hastings agreed.
Diana pulled on her motorcycle boots then turned to Kenny. She stripped him down to his diaper, which Hastings was happy to see wasn’t full. Kenny remained quiet the entire time, staring at the MOPP-geared soldiers with wide eyes. He kept his hands on Diana as she stood and walked in a circle, turning him before the soldiers.
“Good enough?” she asked the National Guard lieutenant.
“Yes, ma’am. Thanks for being helpful.”
Diana glared at the officer. “Anytime,” she said, her tone indicating the opposite. She dressed Kenny and led him back to the line to stand next to Hastings.
“Okay, let’s finish up here,” the lieutenant said. “Ma’am? Boys?”
Ballantine relented and allowed his wife to submit to the same examination. Hastings didn’t look. Kay seemed to make it easy enough, and her boys didn’t cause any hassle, either.
“You’re clear to go, sir,” the lieutenant said. “There’s a decon station at the intersection of Ammo Road and McLean. Turn in to the parking lot there. You’ll be under armed security at all times. They’ll be expecting you, but you’ll have to stop and go through a more extensive exam, including blood draws. Don’t know how you’ll be able to manage it with this boy, here”—she nodded toward Kenny—“but if you tell them he’s got some issues, they might be able to figure something out.”
“Who’s down there?” Hastings asked.
“Armed security and medical personnel. Don’t go off-road—there are mines. Everything’s marked, but we didn’t exactly go all out on signage, so keep to the road.”
Hastings nodded. “Thanks for the tip. We free to go?”
“Roger that, Captain. We’ll call you in.”
*
The decontamination area was much more formal than the roadside check. They were separated by sex, with the exception of Kenny, who would not leave Diana’s side. Hastings shook his head at that—the woman was a snake who had nothing but disregard for the kid, but Kenny couldn’t entertain the notion of being separated from her. Life was truly messed up.
They had to remove all their clothing and gear for another inspection in which they were again assessed for bites or possible exposure to the virus that reanimated the dead. Every scratch, scrape, and contusion was cataloged, and the troops and civilians had to describe the circumstances behind each. There was simply no way to reliably explain every tiny cut, every bruise. Hastings informed the medics that his men had been stationed in New York City, and if they weren’t shambling along looking for people to eat by now, then chances were high everyone was good to go.
The medics didn’t care. Blood was drawn and sent off for immediate processing. Every soldier went through an identification process, and they were each asked to provide a narrative for their journey, including how they had met the civilians with them, as well as any biographical information. The staff refused to answer any of Hastings’s questions regarding Fort Indiantown Gap or the world at large. He was only told that the ground force commander’s staff would provide him with any details he might need going forward.
After the examinations—Hastings was surprised they didn’t do a full-fist check of his prostate—the soldiers were issued new uniforms. Their vehicles were taken away for sterilization, presumably the same place they had sent their weapons.
The group was led to a building that had been turned into a barracks, which had been separated into two zones, one for men and one for women. Hastings was informed that they would remain there overnight, under observation, and that he should expect further orders the following morning. MREs were made available, with the promise of cooked food later in the evening and again at 0700.
“Well, at least we get that,” Stilley said.
“What about my family?” Ballantine asked.
“You can see them,” the medic replied. “No reason why you shouldn’t. The barracks were separated for privacy and legal concerns, not to keep the two groups apart.”
“Legal concerns?” Ballantine snorted. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, Sergeant. I’m not kidding. The Guard has been activated, which means we follow the Army standards of bogging everything down under a mountain of red tape.”
Ballantine shook his head. “We’re in the middle of the damn zombie apocalypse, and this is what we get for it? More lawyer crap?”
The medic’s mouth twitched in an almost smile. “The reekers haven’t eaten a
ll the lawyers yet, Sergeant.”
“It’d probably kill ’em if they did,” Guerra said. “Or maybe it’s just professional courtesy.”
“Go on and check on your family, Ballantine,” Hastings said. “We’ve got some time to kill, so make the most of it.”
“Hell, yes,” Ballantine said huffily, and he turned and headed for the barracks door.
“Hey, who’s in charge here?” Hastings asked the medic.
“Colonel Jarmusch is the garrison commander, and the post is pretty much under his control. Another O-6, Colonel Victor, is in charge of the ground force component. He’s probably the guy you’ll be working for.”
“How many shooters are on post?”
The medic shook his head. “You’ll be told that by the ground commander’s staff, sir. Sorry, I’m not allowed to discuss the disposition of the post with anyone, and besides, I only know my little slice of the pie.”
“Is there anyone other than military on the post?” Hastings asked.
“Not on post, no. There was a FEMA camp with about three thousand folks down the road, but it was wiped out weeks ago. Now if you’ll excuse me, sir, I really have to get back.” The medic hustled out of the barracks.
“A FEMA camp,” Guerra said. “Three thousand people. Awesome. They should’ve just rung the dinner bell.”
“What the hell else were they gonna do?” Stilley asked.
Guerra sat down heavily on a cot. “They who, Stilley?”
“Well, the Guard and FEMA,” Stilley said. “I mean, they gotta save the civilians, right? Hell, we did, with that little boy and that Chinese woman.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Guerra said.
“He’s right,” Hastings said. “It’s our job. We have to try to take care of the people who are depending on us.”
“I already screwed that up,” Reader said. He had stretched out on a cot and was staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head.
“Not your fault, bro,” Tharinger said. “That lady back there absolutely looked like a reeker.”
“She did,” Hastings said. “I almost went to guns on her myself. You did your best, Reader. Don’t kick yourself in the ass over this. Anyone could have done it. Anyone.”
These Dead Lands: Immolation Page 13
