by Ian D. Moore
In full view of the fence guards, two of the civilian staff bent over retching and convulsing uncontrollably. They must have been first timers.
"Can you see any more of them, Chris?" Nathan said into the radio.
"None seen, think that was the last of them. She was only a baby, really, it's tragic. Is everyone alright on your end?"
"Yes, mate. A few twitchy stomachs, but they'll be okay with some air and fresh water. It's never easy to watch someone die, let alone a youngster."
"Even I find it upsetting. What happens to the bodies?" Nathan asked.
"Clearing crews will be out tomorrow in the day. It seems those infected don't seem to come as often during daylight. We can cover the crews while bodies are removed and taken to a makeshift crematorium behind the tall trees there. Basically, it's a huge hole dug out with the dozer, laced with jet fuel and almost constantly burning. We can't risk infection or disease from the corpses," Chris replied, in a matter-of-fact way.
"Understandable. When this is over, there will be thousands of missing, presumed dead."
Throughout the night, there were many skirmishes with the infected, and as the sun began to rise, it became clear how many had lost their lives. The perimeter fences were littered with bodies, some victims of the mines and others at the hands of the base defenders. The radio crackled with static before Nathan heard the voice.
"That's about us done. Relief cover will be here any minute now. You'll be wanting to check on the kids and get some shut-eye, I guess. I'm going for food first. Oh listen, we're heading out by chopper for a supply run tonight. You fancy coming?"
"Sounds good to me. I'm up for that, mate." Nathan replied.
"Sterling work, I'll see you at the helipad at 2100 hours. Later, fella."
The next guard shift arrived a few minutes later to relieve their tired colleagues. With a basic briefing to the female sniper relieving him, Nathan cleared his weapon, removed the magazine, and placed it in his webbing. He would go back to the children, check on them, and then clean the rifle before re-loading the mags and locking the gun away for the day.
***
Loud rapping upon the bathroom door woke Evie, now in an ambient temperature bath. She raised her legs sharply, sending a tidal wave of bathwater splashing over the floor.
“Dr. Shepherd, are you in there? Is everything okay? Dr. Shepherd?”
It was Major Sower, making good on his word. She tried to come to her senses.
I must have fallen asleep. How long have I been here?
She frantically tried to stand up but the bath was slippery.
“Ummm, just a minute, Sir. Yes, I’m okay. Just a minute and I’ll be right with you, sorry.”
“It’s quite alright, take your time. The helicopter sent to get the C.O. and Dr. Fitzgerald should be arriving very shortly. It’s 0600 hours, so if you’re quick, you might have time for breakfast at the cookhouse.”
“Six … Six o’clock!!” she said, almost shouting, “Shit! I’ve been out for almost six hours, sorry, Sir. I’ll be right there, just give me a few minutes, and I’ll meet you at the helipad.”
“Understood.” That was the only reply through the closed door as the major left.
Evie dried herself, throwing the towel over the pool of spilled water in a half-hearted attempt to clean it up. There would be cleaners, but she didn’t want them to have to clean up her mess. Mopping up the worst of it, she hung the towel over the bath, having pulled the plug to drain it. It’ll dry eventually, she thought.
She pulled her fingers through her hair as she returned to her room for her shoes. She found an elastic band in the top drawer of the bedside cabinet and used it to keep her hair back. Someone had been into her room while she had been sleeping in the tub, as a neatly folded, long, white medical coat had been placed upon her bed, attached to which was a plastic ID security pass with the number nine just below her photograph.
She picked up the coat in the crook of her arm and made her way down towards the cookhouse, hoping that she passed as presentable. By the time she reached the catering marquee, her mood was dark, her own self-annoyance playing on her mind at having succumbed to the embrace of sleep for so long.
*******
Reunions
Tom and Holly were both still asleep. The hour of the day and the events of the previous day had taken their toll. Nathan noticed the two laptops had been returned; they must have thought they belonged to him. He'd need to have the techies on the base analyse them as soon as he woke, but for now, they would be safe enough out of sight. Nathan placed them underneath spare blankets beside his fold-up bed. His mind wandered back to Evie as he stripped his weapon down, screwing the cleaning poles for the barrel together and oiling the thin tubular cotton pad attachment used to reach inside the barrel. He pulled out the firing mechanism and wiped away the carbon residue from the spent rounds; it didn't take long for the weapon to be ready for use again. Nathan packed away the cleaning kit and picked up the rifle to take back to the armoury.
He didn’t linger at the armoury, literally entering, finding his locker, and securing his weapon before leaving. As he walked back towards the dorm hangar, he wondered where Evie had been taken and if she was okay. The questions in his mind kept coming, like needles prodding. Yet, without her, he would find no answers. As he arrived back at the hangar, the children began to awaken. Holly came to him, sitting on his knees with her arms around his neck.
"You woked up?" Nathan asked, purposefully adding the extra "d."
"Nnnn ... Yeah," she said, nodding.
Her voice was quiet and still burdened with sleep. Tom stood, letting the sheet fall from him, stretching skywards in just boxer shorts, before joining Holly at Nathan's side. It felt good to see them again, and he embraced them both and spoke softly, feeling the tensions and distressing images of the night guard duty slowly leave him.
"Did you both sleep well?" he asked.
He kissed Holly's head and ran his palm over Tom's shoulders; both children nodded in response.
"Ok, let's find you some clothes and then we'll go get washed ready for some breakfast, and another fun-packed day for you."
As he stood, Holly scooted from his lap and almost fell as she tried to stand such was her haste. Tom walked past Nathan, and with cries of happiness, they both shouted, "Evie," although Holly's cry came out "Eebie." They wrapped their arms around Evie's waist on either side. Nathan stood and turned to see Evelyn in a long, white medical coat, with her ID badge neatly clipped to the pocket, looking very much like the doctor that she said she was.
She bent down to hug the children, telling them that it was so good to see them and kissing each on the forehead; her eyes then looked towards Nathan.
"Nathan, I—" she started to say, but he raised his forefinger to his pursed lips and that cut the sentence short.
"Little ears. We'll talk a little later, okay? But, it's good to see you, Evie."
"Ah yes, it’s good to see you too. I know that you were on the fences last night and you must be shattered. I'll take the children to breakfast and see that they are looked after. You should get some sleep now, doctor's orders," she instructed, with a smile. Holly looked on quizzically during the adult exchange.
"Are you cross at each other?" she said, with a furrowed brow and sad eyes.
"No, sweetheart, what makes you say that?" Nathan asked, looking puzzled.
"Well, you haven't seen each other for a long time and now you're not talking."
"It's, complicated Holly-Polly," he said.
She shrugged her shoulders, rolling her eyes, and let out a wistful sigh, flapping her arms slightly at either side before continuing with her observation.
"It's not cop, com, complicted. You lubs Eebie and Eebie lubs you, that's not complicted!" she stated boldly.
She pointed to each of them in turn as small children do, to emphasise her appraisal. With that, Evie and Nathan looked at each other, before bursting out laughing, both kneeling towards
Holly.
Evie could only manage, “Wah, wuh, ummmm, help me out here, Nate, will you?”
"You are a very bright little girl. Don't you be worrying now, eh? Tom, come a little closer, there is something I want you and Holly to do for me today," said Nathan, forming a triangle with the children and whispering, as Evie looked on puzzled.
He whispered into each small ear, telling the children his plan, and when he had finished to a huge "Yay!" from both, they ran to dress themselves, ready for breakfast. Nathan stood, turned to look at Evie, and held her gaze, just for a second before speaking.
"I'm going on a supply recce tonight leaving at 2100 hours. I'll try to find you after some sleep so that we can catch up. I know you'll be busy, and I think that I understand why you couldn't tell me everything sooner, but I'd like to hear it from you."
"I'm sorry, Nate. I'll bring you up to speed later. I promise," she replied. She leaned in, touching his arm as the children returned set on breakfast. Evie took them to the cookhouse, turning for the briefest of second glances at Nathan as she left hand in hand with Tom and Holly. He winked and gave her a half-smile before finally resting on the fold-up bed.
***
The children had many questions to ask Evie over breakfast, and she did her best to give them answers, without going into too much detail. They asked about the “bad people” and about where she had gone. They asked why she wore the big white medical coat and whether she was a “real doctor” too. Having just about satisfied their curiosity, she took them back to the communal bathroom she had in her block; it wasn’t open to anyone, only the science team and high-level security pass holders. It would be cleaner than the base facility, and she could oversee the process, making sure they were clean.
Now bathed and jovial, they walked back to the main hangar, designated for children’s play, to find other kids now up and occupied with crafts or toys. The base had come a long way in a short time. Teachers had been found from the survivors, and they'd volunteered to hold classes in English, history, mathematics, art, and a host of other subjects. The children knew what they wanted to do for the day and headed straight for the crafts class tables, tugging at the teacher’s sleeves and telling them what they wanted to make.
Evie noticed determination in both of their little faces, buzzing with excitement. Just as she turned to leave, Steve and Janey Grey, the couple they had rescued on the way to the base approached, nervously eyeing up the coat and security ID pass that Evie wore.
“Umm, Miss, errr, Dr. Shepherd,” Steve said, reading the badge and correcting himself.
“Steve, how are you? I’m sorry, I don’t know your lovely wife’s name.” Evie greeted him with a smile, shaking his hand.
“We are all doing very well thanks to you and Nathan. The base staff told us where to find you. This is Janey my wife and our daughter Gracie; our son Luke is attending the new football class later today. We wondered if there was anything we could do to assist? We would be more than happy to look after the two little ones that you have, err, Tom and Holly?” he said, hoping the names were correct.
“That’s a lovely gesture and would be very much appreciated. It would help us a lot if you could watch them through the day and make sure they eat at meal times? We may need cover sometimes at night too as operations progress here, but thank you both.”
“It is the least we can do after all of your help,” added Janey, while baby Gracie chewed on her hand.
“Nathan should be resting after his guard duty last night. He’ll be in the second hangar. If you could let him know for me, that would be great, but you’ll have to excuse me now. I’m afraid I must attend an urgent meeting, but I will try to stop by and catch up with you a little later. And, thanks again for your help.”
***
Evie could hear the drone of the helicopter as it approached the base, almost knowing that it was relevant to her, and sure enough, before it had even touched down, Major Sower approached.
“That’ll be the boss, Lieutenant, along with Dr. Fitzgerald. I’m sure they will both be very pleased to see you alive and well.”
“I will be glad to see them, Sir.”
“The C.O. will want a meeting as soon as possible. He will doubtless want to know everything you have told us, along with anything that you couldn’t.”
The last comment from the major prompted Evie to look at him directly, appreciating his subtle acknowledgement of need-to-know and classified information, despite his higher rank.
They walked past the cookhouse and were drawn to the shouting of a group of teenagers, mixed male and female, who appeared to be surrounding a uniformed soldier. The major looked over, not happy at the timing of the incident with the base commander stepping off the helicopter any minute now. He walked over to find Corporal Simms trying to calm the situation, but with little success.
“Is there a problem, Corporal Simms?”
“No, umm, well, yes, Sir. The cooks asked these lads and lasses to stand in the queue for food without pushing in or causing a nuisance. It appears there was some verbal abuse; this young man here seems to be the voice, Sir,” she said, indicating a young man to her front.
The youth, perhaps late teens, stood with folded arms. He was taller than the major and towered above Corporal Simms. He wore skinny jeans and branded sneakers, the fashionable type of his generation, combined with a T-shirt and cropped, patterned haircut, right ear pierced, and a tattoo of something on his right arm. Turning to meet his eyes, the major had to look slightly upwards.
“And you are?” he said, addressing the youth.
“Who d’ya think you’re talkin’ to mate?” came the reply as the youth turned his head to the right, for encouragement from the group behind him.
“Go on, Baz, go on, son, they can’t fuckin’ tell us what to do, tell em!” The gathered group shouted encouragement to the youth as he glared directly at the major.
“I am Major Paul Sower, son, second in command of this base. Please ask your friends to mind their language.”
“You can go fuck yourself, old man, I’m not your son and you sure as fuck ain't my dad!” the youth retorted, sniggering at his rebellion.
The major, with his arms at his sides, and only his right hand closed and thumb extended, as if about to give the boy a thumbs-up sign, waited before responding as the boy again turned to seek encouragement from his mates gathered around him.
“Baz, that your name, son? I’ve asked you to mind the language. I won’t ask again.”
“Fuck you, Rambo, we’re outta here,” he sniggered. Turning his head, the youth looked to his friends once more, waiting for the back-up, only this time it didn’t come.
As the boy turned his head to the right, the major brought up his right hand swiftly, placing his extended thumb under the left-hand side of the youth’s jaw, pushing inwards and upwards, just below the jaw joint to the skull. The boy squirmed in agony, parting the crowd as he shuffled backwards until he hit the centre support pole of the cookhouse with a dull thud. At this point, the major pushed upwards a little more, bringing the boy onto his tiptoes until he could go no higher. The boy grasped the major’s wrist with both hands, snorting with a very nasal sounding cry of pain as the major held him there for just a few seconds, to be sure he had his complete attention and that of the other teenagers.
“Now, Baz, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was saying that I am Major Paul Sower. You might want to remember that name. This base is my home, currently similar to a hotel, which makes me the assistant manager, and you and your friends are my guests. Those who work here, either volunteers or in uniform, are therefore my staff, and Corporal Simms there has more respect, professionalism, guts, and courage than all of you put together. She earned her two stripes and will earn more in the future. Do you understand what I’m saying, son? Oh, you can blink once for yes, twice for no, because I know it’s going to hurt a lot if you try to nod your head.”
The boy blinked once as his friends stayed dea
thly quiet.
“Do you or any of your friends have allocated jobs?”
Two blinks.
“So what interests do you others have? What do you like to do when you’re not being a pain in the bottom?”
“Ummm, computer, Twitter, Facebook, Xbox, drinking, music,” came various voices.
“What about football? Do you like football, Baz?”
One blink.
Letting the boy down to stand before him, the major turned to the group.
“If you want to eat in my hotel, if you want to reside in my hotel, if you want protection in my hotel, then you’ll earn it as every able-bodied person here does. If you choose not to, then that is your right. I’ll have my staff escort you off the base, and I’ll give you less than two hours before you’re dead, or worse, up against what lies beyond these fences, do you get it?”
“Yes,” was the subdued, unified response.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Sir!”
“You see, that wasn’t too hard, now was it? You will report, after you have stood in line for food and eaten, to the Quartermaster at the gym and volunteer your services to this base to teach children, adults, hell, the birds if they choose to come, how to play football. This will be your daily work allocation until such time as you are detailed elsewhere. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir!”
“Baz, do you have anything to add?”
The boy, clutching his jaw with tears beginning to form in his eyes, looked sheepishly at the ground.
“I, I, I’m sorry, Sir!”
“Not to me, boy. Apologise to Corporal Simms, and then you can all go and apologise to my staff in the kitchen. They may have some work for you to do after the football.”
“I’m sorry, Corporal Simms.”
