The fact that some of the civilians with them were also dependants—Ballantine’s family—put things on a whole other level as far as Guerra was concerned. And then there was the stripper and the autistic kid, as odd a pair as there could be. What the fuck are we going to do with them?
Guerra could think of a few things that he could do with the stripper, but any way he looked at it, the kid was a gigantic liability he couldn’t figure out how to resolve. The kid can’t even wipe his own ass and he goes ape-shit loud for no reason at all sometimes. How do you mitigate that in a risk assessment matrix?
Guerra chuckled. Everything in the Army required a risk assessment to be conducted and a commander’s signature in case shit went wrong and there was a 15-6 investigation. The prospect of doing a risk assessment worksheet for the zombie apocalypse and having to write “Kenny loses his shit and starts screaming” in the hazards column was pretty unusual. Not to mention it sure as shit wasn’t covered in the risk assessment training he’d received. But it was a very real concern and something that could get everyone in the group killed if they weren’t careful.
He hoped the captain and Ballantine were also chewing on the issue in the backs of their minds and would find a solution, since the only one he could come up with involved something drastic happening to the kid. That probably wouldn’t go over too well with the rest of the group.
Puta madre, what I’d give to go back to just dealing with dumbass privates doing dumbass shit, like bouncing checks and paying twenty-nine percent interest for five years on a car stereo.
The thought of things going back to the way they were seemed to creep into Guerra’s mind quite a bit lately, and he often found himself thinking about stuff in the past instead of things that had happened since the outbreak. He knew that was a coping mechanism, according to one of the head shrinkers who spoke to the unit after they got back from being overseas. There was nothing like mandatory “therapy” in an auditorium with a hundred-plus soldiers to miraculously fix eight months of constant combat in an hour.
It’s no wonder so many guys were fucked up and walking around pretending like everything was back to normal. How fucked up is that? You spend so much time over in Afghanistan or Iraq, day in and day out, doing the same thing, then one day you get on a plane, and the next thing you know, you’re back CONUS trying to deal with the sensory overload, not having a weapon on you, and trying not to freak out when you see something on the side of the road as you drive by, hoping it’s not an IED.
Looking back on all of it, Guerra thought it didn’t seem so bad compared to what he was experiencing lately, though there was a sense of familiarity to zombie apocalypse. It was still combat, just a different type. He could only imagine what it must be like for civilians having to deal with society breaking down. For them, it must’ve been like being thrown head first into a wood chipper. What’s Ballantine’s family going through?
Kay Ballantine was sitting with her boys at the other end of the barracks, trying to hold her family together as best she could. Guerra had noticed how Ballantine’s behavior had shifted since finding his family. It was one thing to go to work and come home to your people. But when your family was right there, watching you work, that was a different story.
Guerra knew what it was like to let that demon out, and he had seen it come out in others while deployed overseas. There was something about the act of fighting for one’s life and taking the life of another person that brought out the primordial parts of a man. It was frightening, nauseating, and invigorating, all in one wave of emotion. It was also addicting in a strange way. The demon that came out while doing those things, once released, wanted to come out more and more. It was what kept a man alive day-in and day-out when others were trying to take his life.
The people Guerra and his fellow soldiers became during those moments was not something he would want his family or loved ones to see. Because once that demon was released and others had seen it, it could not be forgotten. Guerra knew this firsthand.
As a young boy, he had idolized his father, and his father was a kind and gentle man with Guerra and his mother. He had very fond memories of him and his father doing things together as he grew from a boy to a man.
However, Guerra also knew a demon lived inside his father. He had seen its face once.
Guerra and his family had been on their way home from a local market with their day’s worth of shopping when they were stopped by a couple of men on a side street. The men wouldn’t be happy with just taking the groceries. Guerra’s father offered them his wallet and watch, and Mama gave up what little jewelry she wore, but the thieves wanted more. Guerra’s mother, to be exact.
Papa struggled with one of the thieves while the second went for Guerra’s mother. When the second thief grabbed her, Papa’s demon made itself known. He became a whirlwind of rage as he savagely beat the first thief down, then he moved to the second, who was holding his wife. Papa began beating the man, and they fell to the ground together.
Mama grabbed Guerra and pulled him away as his father struggled with the thief. As the two men rolled around on the ground, guttural, inhuman sounds came from the pair. Papa shoved his thumb deep into the thief’s eye socket while strangling the man with his other hand. The thief curled up into a fetal position and went limp. In a rage, Papa got to his feet and began kicking and stomping on the thief’s head while screaming at him.
The first thief got up and attacked Papa from behind. Guerra’s father turned and fought him with the same rage. The demon was in full control, and Papa was no longer there. Soon, the first thief was on the ground and suffering the same fate as his partner in crime. Finally, Papa looked over at Guerra and his mother. Standing there, Guerra stared at his father’s face, and what he saw frightened him. The face did not belong to the father that he knew; it belonged to someone else, someone fearsome. Then as quickly as it had emerged, the demon disappeared.
Papa returned to being that kind and gentle man that Guerra knew and loved, but Guerra never looked at his father the same way after that day. He had seen what slept inside his father, and he knew what that demon looked like when it was released. The images were always in the back of his mind even in his pubescent years, when Guerra was going through the typical rebellious stages and would push his father’s patience. That little voice inside his head would remind him of what his father was capable of when his mouth seemed to run on without his brain engaging first and he would push his father to the limits. Guerra was sure that little voice had saved him on more than one occasion because he had been a handful during those years.
While deployed, Guerra had met his own demon on several occasions, and he knew what and who he became when in that mode. He didn’t like the thought of his mother or father ever seeing him like that, so he wondered how Ballantine’s wife and children were handling not only what was happening but seeing the demon in Ballantine during battle.
“Hey, Missus Ballantine. How are you guys doing?” Guerra asked as he walked over to the family. “Do you or your boys need anything?”
Kay was sitting on one of the lower bunks, folding some freshly laundered clothes. Guerra had to admit, having clean clothes again was one of Indiantown Gap’s many benefits.
She smiled at him. “No, not at the moment. The boys and I are doing fine, thanks. They really seem to like the MREs. I think between the two of them they’ve eaten an entire case so far.”
Guerra chuckled. “If I were you, I’d make sure they drink plenty of water if they’ve packed away that many MREs. Otherwise you’re in for some seriously constipated boys for the next few weeks. You know what we call them—”
“‘Meals Rejected by Ethiopians’ or ‘Meals Rarely Edible’? Yeah, I’ve heard them all before, Sergeant. But thanks for the tip. I’ll make sure they drink plenty. And I’ll see if I can get them to slow down on them some. Do you think they’ll get us another normal meal at some point, like the one we had last night?” Kay asked.
“I’m sur
e they’ll let us all eat at the dining facility once everything gets sorted out. When the captain and your husband get back, we should have a better handle on how things are going to play out. In the meantime, if you think of anything you or your family needs, just let me know. I’m making a list of things for all of us,” Guerra said. “I’d also take advantage of the showers while you can. You never know when we’re gonna be without hot or even running water again. Just let me know when you or Diana want to use the facilities, and I’ll make sure everyone knows to stay out of the latrine until you’re done.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you looking out for us.”
“No problem, ma’am.” Guerra nodded to her, then turned and walked down the room’s length.
Diana and Kenny were sitting side by side on the last cot. Guerra wondered how to approach her. Sometimes, Diana was okay, but other times, she was a real bitch. No one in the group could make any sense of why Kenny, of all people, had latched onto her the way he did. She had made it clear that she didn’t want the job on more than one occasion, but nevertheless, she always ended up taking care of the boy. No one else could keep the kid calm, and Guerra wondered how long she would be able to stick with the gig.
She was trying to coax Kenny into eating an MRE cracker with grape jelly on it, but Kenny wasn’t having any of it. Guerra could tell she was getting frustrated.
“Have you tried giving him the peanut butter or the jalapeño cheese yet?” Guerra asked as he walked up.
Diana smirked at him. “Do I look like the retard whisperer to you?”
Guerra shook his head. “Man, you really are all heart, aren’t you?”
“Look, I’ve never done this shit before. I don’t know how to take care of normal kids, let alone an autistic one. You think because I have a pair of tits that I automatically want to play mommy?”
Guerra stopped to think about those tits for a second before replying. “Hey, I’m just trying to help here.”
“If you want to help me out, how about finding me some more diapers and wipes for this shit machine here? Can you do that, genius?”
Guerra ignored the attitude. “Yeah, I can do that for you. I’m making a list of things people need. I saw an AAFES exchange on the way in, and one of the medics told me it’s still stocked and open for everyone on base. What size diapers should I put?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Diana motioned at Kenny, who was more interested in examining his fluttering hands than anything else. “Look at him. Get size ‘big’ or whatever you think will fit him.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
Diana took a deep breath and looked down at the cracker in her hand. “If they have any tampons, those would be great.”
Guerra almost choked on his tongue but managed to keep his cool. “Okay, no problem. Any special kind I should ask for? You want the ones with the, uh, wings?”
Diana busted out laughing so hard that she dropped the cracker. She looked up at Guerra then pitched forward as she succumbed to another gale of laugher. Kenny glanced at her then went back to watching his hands flutter and flap before him. Guerra instantly felt like an ass, and to his great embarrassment, everyone in the barracks was staring at them.
Diana settled down and asked between giggles, “Have you ever had a girlfriend before? You do like women, don’t you?”
“Of course I’ve had girlfriends,” Guerra snapped. “What does that have to do with anything?”
She snickered. “Well, Romeo, you do know there’s a difference between tampons and pads, right?”
Guerra cleared his throat, confused by the question that left him momentarily struggling for a response. “Look, I know that they have different kinds, but I’m no expert. If you want to be a smart-ass about it and give me a hard time then just forget I asked. You can figure out how to handle your bleeding problem on your own. Otherwise, tell me what you want, and I’ll try to get it for you. Think you can do that?”
Diana grinned. “Sure, tough guy. Pick up whatever they have, tampons or pads. I’ll let you decide. Impress me with your knowledge of feminine hygiene products.”
*
Hastings looked Colonel Victor square in the eye. “Sir, from what I’ve seen of the base’s current fortifications, we need to make some substantial improvements if we expect to face and survive a large assault from the reekers.”
“We have a good deal of assets available. Aside from our normal base infrastructure and manning, we’ve absorbed several other units like your own, who’ve brought capabilities and manpower that we typically don’t have here at Indiantown Gap.” The colonel leaned back in his chair and made a quick scan around the table. “For instance, we’re now the proud owners of an RQ-7 Shadow Aerial Reconnaissance Platoon that was part of the Stryker Brigade out of Philadelphia. They and a few other survivors were able to make it here with their equipment before being completely overrun. We have more than the standard MTOE for a Shadow platoon though, as they were able to bring additional equipment and vehicles with them. Actually, we now have more platforms than qualified operators at the moment. We also have an engineer unit and heavy equipment support.”
“That’s good to know, sir.” Hastings gestured at Ballantine. “Sergeant Ballantine, I need you to sit down with someone from the S2 shop and from the Shadow platoon and start ISR mission planning. Relook at the NAIs and see if they meet my criteria. We need to get an ISR platform up as soon as possible and start identifying the bridges and other choke points along the major avenues of approach, as well as their current condition, in a three-hundred-sixty-degree radius from our position. I need you to mark any shipping or transportation companies in the surrounding area, specifically looking for shipping containers and CONEXes they might have on site and the equipment to lift and move them.” Hastings turned back to Victor. “We should get started on this stuff right away, sir.”
Victor nodded. “Agreed, Captain. I like your attitude.”
“Then I’ll get on that right now, sir,” Ballantine said, rising to his feet.
Hastings raised his hand. “Hold up for a second, Sergeant. I also need to get an idea on the disposition of the reekers. We need to know where they are amassing and where we can expect them to come from first.”
“Roger that, sir. I’ll be over in the S2 shop if you need me.” Ballantine hurried out of the room.
Hastings thought of another idea. “Colonel, I saw railroad tracks on our way down here. Are there any railheads or hump stations close to Indiantown Gap?”
Victor nodded. “Yes. There’s one up in Reading, north of here, and one down south in Rutherford. Both are in fairly populated areas, so they’ll be hard to get to given the current situation. Lots of potential for contact with reeker masses.”
“I understand that, sir, but I’d like to task the ISR platforms to check them out and do a recon of the hump yards in those areas.”
“Why?” Victor asked. “What do you have in mind, Hastings?”
“I’d like to secure an engine or two, if at all possible. Besides being a mode of transportation, I want to try to move as many shipping containers to Indiantown as possible.”
“You thinking we’ll need to use those to bug out?” asked the S3, a captain with the rather unfortunate surname of Gaylord.
“Not exactly,” Hastings said. “I think they’d be put to better use reinforcing the perimeter, specifically around the airfield. The chain-link fence off Fisher Avenue isn’t going to stop a swarm of reekers for more than a few minutes, and the airfield is a critical piece of terrain that we need to protect. We can have the engineers start putting up HESCO barriers around other critical infrastructure until we find some shipping containers or we run out of HESCOs, but I’d like to use as many containers we can find to build up the perimeter. We can also use them to block the main avenues of approach to channelize the reekers as much as possible. If we can do it in depth, extending out from Indiantown Gap and using choke points like the bridges that cross over the rivers to for
ce the reekers into heavily forested areas, we might be able to slow them down and break them up gradually before they get here.”
“That’s going to be a hell of a lot of work,” Gaylord said.
“Hey, no one said the zombie apocalypse was going to be easy,” Hastings replied.
“A lot of what you’re looking for is available, Hastings,” Victor said. “We have a decent supply of shipping containers and CONEXes here on base, and there are also a couple of shipping and transportation companies right up Fisher Avenue and off of Route 72 that have shipping containers and semitrailers all the time. There’s even an industrial supply store just outside of the base gates that may be of use.”
“Wow, that’s fantastic, sir,” Hastings said. “Maybe we can detail the engineers to check it out and recover anything that might be useful.”
Victor nodded. “A lot of the troops here grew up around this area and know it quite well. You capture what you need on paper, Captain, and I’ll have my staff make sure you get the support you need.”
“Thank you, sir. One last thing, though, and this one may be a stretch. Do you happen to know if anyone on base knows how to drive a train engine?”
Victor chuckled. “Hastings, you’re in luck. It just so happens that Colonel Jarmusch has a brother who works on the rail line. I’ll have him link up with you, and the two of you can hammer out the details.”
The door to the room opened, and several people walked in. At the head of the progression was a tall, sandy-haired man with a long nose and a very prominent chin.
Victor shook his head. “Were your ears burning?” he asked the man.
The man grinned. “What, are you casting aspersions and spreading lies again?”
Victor motioned toward Hastings. “Colonel Jarmusch, this here is Captain Hastings, OIC of the group from New York that came in yesterday. Hastings, Colonel Jarmusch is the commander of the Fort Indiantown Gap National Guard base.”
Colonel Jarmusch extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Captain Hastings.”
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