by TW Gallier
That did not bode well for me.
I only had one tower on my phone, so my connection was spotty at best. I was forced to leave my tent to wander around the camp until I had two towers. I called my wife immediately.
"Jenny," I asked. "Are you all right?"
"We're fine. When are you coming back? I've been trying to call you."
"Sorry, but either this area has the worst cell phone coverage in the world, or the attacks took out some of the towers," I said. "I've been walking around trying to find a connection."
"Where are you?"
"Still in Salt Lake City. I think they are going to force me back into the Army."
"They can't do that! You did your time," she shouted, and then started to cry. "We need you here. It's very scary. Zombies have attacked us, but we killed them. Some of the cabin owners came up here and are starting a guard force to patrol for zombies and looters. There's a homeowners meeting tomorrow to set up our defenses or something."
My hand tightened on the phone. My duty was to protect my family, and the government was keeping me from them. If anything happened to them…
"Baby, listen, I'm going to do anything and everything in my power to avoid being impressed into service," I said. I could feel my resolve hardening. "I'm coming home for you and the boys. I promise. I will find a way."
My phone went blank. All of the lights in camp went off. Running vehicles went silent as well. Someone tried to restart his vehicle, but it wouldn't start. There was just one vehicle with light. It was a Tactical Operations vehicle. I hurried over.
"What just happened?" I demanded.
Soldiers inside turned to stare at me. They looked pale.
"Someone just nuked the US," one of them said. "I guess the EMP from the air bursts took out the lights."
I stared numbly at them. When I turned away, my eyes went to Salt Lake City. It was dark. No light. No nothing. Did I just witness the end of civilization?
Within the hour we had light again, and most of the vehicles were up and running. I was heading for my bunk, dead phone in hand. My chance of finding a working phone was slim. If Jenny's phone was taken out, too, then we were screwed. A deep sense of desperation was starting to build within.
"Gilley! We're moving out," the Command Sergeant Major in charge of the camp called.
Sergeant Major Russell was a big, gruff man in his late-forties or early fifties. He had a gray crew cut and piercing gray eyes. He'd retired just six months earlier, but looked eager to continue his service now.
"Where are we going, Sergeant Major?"
"We have our assignment," he said. "We're going to guard the border."
"The Canadian or Mexican border?"
It didn't matter to me. Either way I was breaking free of them at the first chance. I just wanted to know if I'd be returning home across the northern tier of states, or the Southwestern deserts. So I was hoping hard it was the Canadian border.
Neither," he said. "The President has ordered us to defend the western states from the infected. We're heading for Wyoming."
Everyone was loaded into M939 5-ton trucks. We departed the camp in a fifteen truck convoy, including three Humvees and the TOC. About an hour out, we joined another convoy of twenty vehicles.
It was cold and miserable in the back of that open truck. I spent most of it trying to decide if I wanted to jump out and take my chances, or stay put and wait for a better opportunity. Most of the men with me looked like they were having the same thoughts.
"Anyone know where they are taking us?"
No one said anything. I looked the guy over. He was tall and slim, head shaved, wearing jeans and a western shirt. He wore a New York Yankee baseball cap. I decided I wouldn't hold that against him. We shared a love of baseball, after all.
"Wyoming," I said. "Not sure exactly where in the state. I think they are going to make us guard the Rockies from zombies."
"Zombies? You mean the infected?" he asked.
"Call them what you want," I said. "I'm Roger Gilley."
"Chase Conroy," he said. "US Marine."
"You're currently in the Marines?" I asked. "I thought we were all out of the military, but being impressed back in."
"I was on leave when those Army cocksuckers grabbed me."
"You don't like the Army, dude?" another guy growled, standing up. "I'll kick an Army boot up her wallowed out ass!"
"Try it!"
"Shut the fuck up!" I commanded. "Anyone here outrank a Staff Sergeant?"
"I do. I'm a Marine."
I kicked him in the face. Two other guys jumped on to hold him down.
"I don't want to hear your jarhead crap. I asked a question." No one spoke up. "So that makes me the ranking NCO here. I'm in command. Any questions? I didn't think so." I looked at the Marine glaring murderously up at me. "You have a problem, boy?"
"No."
"Let him go."
As I expected, he came up swinging. I ducked under his right cross, and then slammed an elbow across his nose. Blood erupted all over both of us. Of course, I was already covered in dried zombie blood. When he came at me again, I put him down with a right uppercut.
"Like I said," I said, standing over him. "I'm in charge until we reach our destination."
"I'm going to get you."
"Are you threatening an NCO?"
That sobered him up. I waited for him to bring up the fact I wasn't in the Army anymore. He didn't. I think we all understood that we actually were back in the military, whether we liked it or not. So it didn't matter if I was Army, Navy, Air Force, or a Marine, I was a non-commissioned officer in the US military. Threatening me, much less attacking me, was a violation of the US Code of Military Justice. He could be court-martialed if I reported him. Though, I figured they'd overlook it for the time being.
"What's your rank, Conroy?"
"I'm a Lance Corporal, sir."
Shaking my head, I looked around at all of the men. Everyone was in civilian clothes, mostly jeans and t-shirts like myself. I thought about reminding Conroy that Army NCOs were not addressed as "sir" but I'd had enough. He'd probably keep calling me sir anyway, just to spite me.
I sat back down with a sigh. Sometimes the rivalry between the services was fun, but sometimes men took it too seriously. Lance Corporal Conroy was still glaring at me. I smiled when it occurred to me that since he was active duty, then he probably actually outranked me.
Idiot.
"Anyone else here active duty?"
No one answered. So I went around, calling on everyone to state their name and branch of service. There were thirty men seated on beaches and on the floor. Fourteen were Army. Five were Air Force. Five were Navy. Lance Corporal Conroy was the only Marine. I think that made him feel more special.
"Mike Huston, Army scout. I serviced in Afghanistan with the 101st Airborne. Buck sergeant when I got out."
He looked tall, maybe an inch taller than me, fit, with dark hair and blue eyes. His hair was still military cut, like mine. I felt a certain comradeship with him immediately.
"Airborne!" another man said. He was sitting across from me. "Charlie Bailey. I serviced in Afghanistan with the 82nd Airborne. Also an E-5."
"Infantry?" I asked.
"Hell yes," he said, grinning. "You?"
"82nd Airborne," I said. "Infantry, but I served in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Because I'm special." I looked around. "So, three airborne, a Marine, and the rest of you are REMFs I suppose."
That got some of them to laughing and grinning. The combat arms guys spoke up. I assumed the rest were actually rear echelon mother fucks as stated. Didn't matter to me, but I'd fought the zombies. I'd really rather have combat vets around me.
The sun was rising in the east when we finally slowed and pulled off the blacktop. Our convoy traveled up a dirt road for another hour, before we finally came to an encampment. I stood up to look it over when we topped a hill.
The camp was impressive. There had to be several thousand troop
s there. I saw a dozen M1 Abrams tanks, ancient M113s, and lots of Humvees. Most of the vehicles had that weird National Guard camo paint. About half of the Humvees looked brand spanking new, painted the solid desert tan.
Uniformed Army soldiers herded everyone over to an open area. There had to be hundreds of us in civilian clothes. We were formed up into five ranks. I stood between Mike Huston and Charlie Bailey.
Sergeant Major Russell called us to attention when two field grade officers approached. One was a tall, tough looking African American man. I squinted to see his rank insignia. A full bird colonel. He ordered us to stand at ease.
"Welcome to the newly formed 110th Infantry Brigade. I'm Colonel Humphries. To my right is Command Sergeant Major Russell. My XO is Major Hammond," he said, indicating a woman to his left. "After you are dismissed from this formation, I want all NCOs to report to the Sergeant Major, and all of the officers to report to Major Hammond. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir!"
"Very good," he said.
Before he could continue, Conroy spoke up. "Sir, I'm a Marine. I request transfer back to a US Marine Corps unit."
Colonel Humphries paused to look Conroy over. Then he looked the formation over.
"Any other Marines?" Hands went up. He nodded, before asking for a show of hands of Air Force and Navy personnel. "Out fucking standing, boys, you're all in the Army now. Every one of you is in the Army now, and I don't want to hear any shit about having done your time. Get it in your heads. You've been recalled into service."
Chapter 6
A knock at the door made me jump. I quickly ushered the boys into their bedroom, pulled my pistol, and moved to the front door. Whoever it was knocked again, louder, when I didn't respond.
"Who is it?"
"Sean Andrews," he said. "We're having the meeting now."
I hated the fact my mind went to dark places first. Would he use that ploy to make me drop my guard so he could take me down? Was he a threat to me and the boys? Should I cooperate with any of my neighbors? I barely knew any of them.
I glanced at the wall clock.
"It's not for another two hours," I shouted through the door. He said something, but I couldn't understand. My heart began to race. I felt like he was playing me. "What? I didn't hear that."
"More residents have arrived," he shouted. "They report the situation is deteriorating faster and worse than we thought."
I couldn't argue that. My phone, TV, and all three radios stopped working at once. That was a pretty bad "deterioration" of the situation in my book.
"It would be easier to talk if you opened the door."
Maybe I was being paranoid. He seemed like a nice enough guy earlier. Roger liked him. So I lowered the pistol to my side and unlocked the door with my left hand. When I cracked the door open and peeked out, he'd backed up a few steps to appear less threatening.
"Are we okay?" he asked.
He looked a lot different. Sean had changed into hunting camouflage. There was a pistol on his hip, and he carried an AR15 over his shoulder. He was even wearing an olive drab USMC 8-point utility cap like my father-in-law always wore.
Oddly enough, that bit of the familiar kind of made me want to trust him.
"Sorry, I have two small children," I said. "Maybe I'm being overprotective, but not sorry."
That made him chuckle. "Understood. Are you going to attend the meeting?"
"How bad is the situation?"
"We've had a nuclear exchange that's knocked down the power grid. Zombies are running amok. The government has vanished, so no help coming," he said. "So it's about what you'd expect during the apocalypse."
I looked in the direction of Blue Ridge. There was a lot of smoke in the valley, and fairly thick. I couldn't actually see the city from our location, even in the best of circumstances, but I'd never seen so much dark smoke.
"Nuclear exchange? Was Blue Ridge nuked?"
"That's what took out the TV, electricity, and phones," he said. "Or the EMP burst from the nukes." He paused to grin. "If Blue Ridge was hit by a nuclear missile we'd be dead, too."
I didn't know a nuke could do more than kill millions, and had no idea what an "EMP burst" could be, but he seemed confident and sure of his information. I believed him.
"We're still meeting at the model home?" He nodded. "Okay, I'll get the boys and meet you down there."
"I'd feel better escorting you and your sons," he said. "A few more zombies were killed trying to enter the community."
I didn't hear any gunfire. A vision of men beating the infected to death with bats flashed through my mind. Sounded like a dreadful and dangerous way to deal with them.
"Are you walking?"
"Cars were knocked out just like the phones and TVs," he said. "We're all walking now."
I stared at the SUV a long second. The world became a whole lot bigger without cars. If the same thing happened all across the country, then Roger was going to have a hard time coming home. The possibility that he'd never come home occurred to me.
"Oh my god," I whispered. "It just keeps getting worse."
For a second it looked like Sean might hug me. Might comfort me. I quickly stepped back, shaking my head. Chaos ruled my thoughts for a moment. I didn't know what to do.
Then I heard my late mother's voice, Time to put on your big girl panties, Jenny.
Sometimes Momma was tougher than Daddy. And she was always right.
"Hold on. I'll get the boys," I said and rushed to their bedroom.
Doing something, anything, felt good. I was never the cringe in the corner and wait to be saved girl. That had its appeal when Roger was right there to take care of it. He could kill the spider or snake. He could go out in the storm and chase off the raccoons in the trash. Roger never hesitated taking care of business, but he admired my willingness and ability to do it, too.
I vowed to not disappoint him, my parents, or myself.
Timmy and Harlan actually knew Sean better than me. Since Sean lived in his cabin year round, Roger and the boys hunted and fished with him. I never participated, wanting father and sons to bond like real men. Whatever that meant.
"Hi, Gunny," Timmy said.
"Mr. Andrews," I corrected him.
"No, everyone calls me Gunny," Sean said. "It's fine."
Roger never referred to him as Gunny. But if he said it was okay, I wasn't going to argue the point. I didn't particularly like it, but sometimes a mother has to choose her battles.
I kept the pistol holstered on my belt full time, so only had to pick up the 30-30 and the fanny pack I was carrying the ammo in now. Once I ensured all doors were locked, and the keys were in my pocket, we headed for the meeting.
"Wow, you are meticulous about checking everything," Sean said as we walked down the middle of the asphalt road.
"You mean OCD?" I laughed. "It's called being a mother."
That was my excuse, and I wasn't going to surrender it.
The developer's model home was a gorgeous four bedroom, three bath, four thousand square foot log mini-mansion near the entrance to the subdivision. It had deep decks and a spectacular mountain view. A few of the other so called cabins up there were just as big and beautiful. We'd chosen the very smallest and cheapest cabin available.
Bill Connor called the meeting to order when we arrived on the main deck. Apparently I was the last family to show up. Kind of embarrassing when it became obvious that they'd sent Sean up to get us.
There were nineteen "families" in our little community. There were more homes, but only nineteen made it up there so far. Of those nineteen, five were single person households: three men and two women. All divorced, and Sean was the oldest of them at forty. I was a little surprised by the overall youth of the group. Only three elderly couples made it to their cabins. Most of the adults were in their thirties, making me at twenty-eight the youngest.
The group's youth also meant lots of children. Mostly young children. I counted fifteen kids playing inside. Seeing them
filled me with hope, and then dread.
"Our first order of business is organizing a defense," Bill said. "Personally, I think the group is small enough for a pure democracy, so we can vote on all community decisions."
"Not all of us have guns," a single woman said. "How can I contribute to the defense? I can't even shoot a gun."
So Bill called for a show of hands of everyone with some sort of weapon, counting bows and crossbows. Most families had at least a pistol, hunting rifle, or shotgun. Then there was Sean with a mini-arsenal. Once everyone figured out he was the only one there with military combat experience, he was put in charge of the guard force.
Sean proved our decision correct by producing a topographical map of the area. He'd already figured out the best places to post armed guards. Soon we had a roster with everyone's shift. The group was so small that everyone had to pull one two hour shift a day. There were three single parents, including myself, so we each received a permanent four hour, two shift block in the mornings. That way we could gather all of our children together in one location and watch each other's children.
I was starting to feel much better about our prospect.
"Zombies!"
Our position gave us a perfect view down side of the mountain, overlooking the access road winding up to us. And there were zombies shuffling up the middle of that road. My heart sank. All of my optimism died right there.
Chapter 7
"Sergeant Gilley, I have to speak to the First Sergeant," SFC Beatty said. "Make sure everyone gets their basic issue."
We were in company formation outside of the supply room. Really, it was a GP Medium. First Platoon was slowly filing in to receive their basic issue. Since we were Fourth Platoon, it would be a while.
"All right, men. You know the drill. Hurry up and wait," I said. "Gotta love the Army, right?"
That got a laugh, and I noticed the men relax a little. I wished I could relax. They'd dragged my ass back into the Army. All I could think about was Jenny and the boys. At least they made it to the cabin. Now I had to come up with a way to get to the cabin.
