Better to be Lucky
By David Rogers
Better to be Lucky
Copyright © 2013 by David Rogers
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This is a work of original fiction set in Georgia. Some real locations and businesses have been used to set scenes, but all such trademarks are the respective property of their owners. All depicted characters are fictional and not intended to represent specific living persons.
Table of Contents
Chapter One – Lucky bastard
Chapter Two – Hurry up and wait
Chapter Three – Fly the Friendly
Foreword
Zombies
Chapter One – Lucky bastard
“Boys, boys, when are you gonna learn not to mess with the monster?” Matt chuckled as he dropped the cards in his hand. “Full house.”
“Son of a bitch!” “Damnit!” “You’re kidding, again?” The other soldiers at the table threw their cards down in disgust, and Matt reached forward to rake in the pot.
“How many pots is that?” Charlie asked sourly as Matt began rapidly stacking the bills into an orderly stack. “Five now?”
“Seven.” Gary said with a scowl. “He won two while you were talking with Top.”
“Seven fucking pots.” Charlie gave Matt a narrow look. “I’m about this close to making you strip so we can check for extra cards.”
“Don’t be like that.” Matt grinned. “If you wanna see my ass all you gotta do is give into your natural urge in the shower room. I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Fuck you.” Charlie said without much real heat. “But I’m serious, I’m watching you close now.”
“Looking’s free, but anything more is gonna cost.” Matt said as he finished sorting through his winnings and added them to the neat stack already in front of him. Peeling two dollars off, he threw them back into the middle. “We gonna keep playing or what?”
“Man, that ain’t right.” Scott said with a frown. “You gotta give a little back, for real.”
“Luck goes both ways boys, unless you’re the monster.”
“Monster gonna be buying a few rounds tonight at the Back Green.” Scott said as he grabbed the deck and started shuffling it. “There ain’t no way you gonna take this much off me and not give a little back one way or another. When we get to the bar you’re gonna make it right.”
“You guys are taking the fun right outta this.” Matt complained. “You see me pitching a fit when I lose?”
“You hardly ever lose.” Kevin pointed out.
“Yeah, but when I do it ain’t no production like my damn dog died or something. You guys know how it is; you go up, you go down. Besides, what else we got to do?”
“Ho! Shut the fuck up!” Everyone at the table shouted at Matt, while Charlie and Scott reached out to slap at him.
Matt covered up with both hands. “Hey, knock it off!”
“Why you gotta go and fucking say stupid shit like that?” demanded Scott, slapping at Matt again when he peeked out cautiously from behind his hands.
“What?”
“Dude, seriously.” Charlie said, sitting down. “I don’t need no bullshit happening today. I got Brandy driving up from Savannah later and we got a nice weekend laid on.”
“Great, fucking great. What’s the problem then?” Matt demanded.
“You fucking jinx my weekend and I’m gonna be pissed as hell.” Charlie said loudly.
“Alright, let’s calm down.” Gary said, glancing around the pavilion tent. “Tell you what, Matt’s gonna buy everyone a round tonight. In the meantime, here, have a smoke. Smokes all around. Smoke up.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a handful of little cigars, tossing them at the soldiers around the table.
A couple of them looked like they maybe wanted to continue the argument, but the look in Gary’s eyes, and the stripes on his sleeve, headed off any objection. Lighters came out and the little twists of tobacco were puffing fragrantly as Scott finished shuffling and started dealing the next hand.
“Seven stud.” Scott announced as he flicked cards around the table.
“Where you get these things again?” Kevin asked, taking the little cigar out of his mouth and looking at it critically.
“Why, what’s wrong?” Gary asked as he collected his first two down cards together with his left hand.
“Nothing, I like ‘em. Need to get me some. They’d go pretty good with a beer on my couch when I’m watching the Bulldogs.”
“Friend of my dad’s who lives in North Carolina.” Gary shrugged. “Little family farm, and they do some rolling with the good stuff, the part they don’t sell on to one of the farm brokers.”
“They tapped out, or you think I can get myself a couple of boxes?”
“I’ll ask Dad the next time I talk to him, see what they say.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” Charlie said in disgust. He gestured at Matt, who’d just received the King of Hearts and both black Aces among his up cards.
Before anyone could say anything further, a new voice rose. “Top wants to talk everyone in the barracks, double quick.”
Charlie looked away from the aces and king to the private at the corner of the barracks building, then stood up and glared at Matt. “I fucking knew it. I’m so going to kick your ass.”
“He probably just wants to tell us how good a job we’ve been doing all week.” Matt protested as he stood with the others.
“Yeah, right.” Charlie said flicking the cherry off the end of the cigar so he could drop it into the breast pocket of his BDUs without setting himself on fire. The others put out their smokes and went around the building to the door. When they got inside they found almost the entire company was present, with First Sergeant Johnson waiting.
“Hurry up, listen good.” Johnson said as the last of the smokers filed in from outside. “Captain Roberts just got word we’re going on alert status for possible deployment.” A murmur of surprise voices rippled across the soldiers. Johnson nodded. “I know, I know. All I got for you at this time is this is not a drill and we need to be ready to transfer over to Augusta Regional for a possible flight out.”
“Where?”
“When I know, you’ll know.” Johnson said with an edge of irritation in his voice. “In the mean time, everyone get turned out and shag ass over to the armory to draw weapons, gear, and ammo. Full loadout. Let’s go.”
Chapter Two – Hurry up and wait
“Hey, you guys hear?” Matt asked as he dropped down on the tarmac next Gary.
“Hear what?” Gary asked, his eyes automatically checking to make sure Matt’s weapon was safed and that there wasn’t a magazine in the well.
“Cooper’s got himself a radio and he’s listening to the news. Atlanta’s like, I dunno, having a riot or something.”
“There ain’t no riot in Atlanta.” Scott snorted.
“That’s what the radio said.”
“Fifty bucks says that ain’t what it said.” Charlie said.
“Man, you still pissing and moaning about luck?” Matt said with a down twist of his mouth.
“Sure, why not. Ain’t like I got much else I can be doing right now.”
“Sarge, they were so ready to get us out here so quick, now we just sitting around.” Kevin said, looking at Gary.
“That’s the Green Machine dude.”
Heads no
dded, agreeing with Scott. Matt though, was looking thoughtful. “Well, whatever’s going on in Atlanta, we coulda done driven there by now. It ain’t but two hours, less if there ain’t no worry about a ticket.”
“Yeah, well, orders said to mount up and stand ready at the airport, so that’s what we’re doing.” Gary shrugged.
“That was three hours ago.”
“Don’t matter, orders are orders. We’re here and here’s where they said to be, so we’re good.”
Matt opened his mouth, then hesitated when he saw the warning look in Gary’s eyes. The sergeant was pretty laid back, borderline surfer dude almost, but he was a NCO and when push came to shove he acted the part. Now his expression told Matt to leave it alone. The specialist shrugged instead. “Well, I’m going to go check back with Cooper, find out more about what he knows.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Charlie said, taking out a fresh pack of cigarettes and unwinding the cellophane from the top. Matt moved off, and Charlie watched him go before sighing heavily. “When we get back from this, I am so kicking his ass.”
“What you think Brandy’s gonna do when you don’t show up?” Scott asked.
“Flip a lid.” Charlie said morosely. “Maybe, maybe, if she calls the base and they say we’ve been mustered for possible deployment, I might catch a break. Maybe.” He stuck a smoke in his mouth and pulled out a Bic.
Gary pulled out a pack of cigarettes of his own, and others followed suit. He glanced around idly, but there was no change. They had been driven out to one of the hangers the base kept on retainer at the civilian facility, ready to service and house any people or equipment that were passing through. Fort Gordon didn’t have its own airfield and wasn’t conveniently close to any military ones, so troops almost always went through Augusta Regional Airport when they flew.
But he couldn’t remember ever having been scrambled up and over to Augusta for a possible deployment this quickly before. Never this quickly. The Army took its time about things. In the movies, on television, the President or a senior General would issue an order, and within minutes soldiers would be on whatever site they’d been ordered to, ready to kick ass and take names.
Here in the real world, it took a lot longer. The soldiers did their part, like good soldiers. They geared up, piled into the trucks, and raced over to the airport. Ready and able. And waiting. For three hours. With no further word coming down as to what was going on.
Gary finished his cigarette, dropped it into the Coke can the smokers had appropriated as a ashtray, and stood up. “You guys don’t get lost. I’m going to go see Top and find out what he knows.”
“Good.” Charlie grunted.
Gary slung his M-16 and walked over to the enormous hanger doors that were slid back in the open position. Those soldiers that smoked, as usual, had been relegated outside. Most of the others were inside, out of the sun. Gary didn’t mind the sun, and he didn’t mind the walk, but it did push him a little out of the loop. Assuming there was a loop.
He joined a small cluster of the company’s other sergeants, all standing about fifteen feet from First Sergeant Johnson and Captain Roberts. The lieutenants, he was happy to see, were all smart enough to know Roberts cared more about Johnson’s opinion than he did that of the mere lieutenants, and they formed sort of a outer rank that encircled the senior NCO and their company commander.
There was a backpack radio that was laying on the table, ignored in favor of the civilian FM radio that was there as well. The leadership all seemed to be listening to the FM broadcast, but whatever was coming from the radio, it wasn’t loud enough for Gary to hear it from over here. “What’s the word?” Gary asked.
Murphy shrugged. “Dunno, but they’ve been paying real close attention to the radio for the last fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah.” Russell nodded. “And whatever it is, they’re taking it serious.”
“Shit.” Gary muttered. “So this ain’t just some elaborate Labor Day exercise?”
“Don’t look like it.” Powell said with a scowl. “And whatever it is, I heard there’s some problems in the city.”
“What, Atlanta?”
“Well I think what Top and the Captain are listening to is coming out of Atlanta, but I meant here.”
“Augusta?”
“Yeah.” Powell confirmed. “One of the airport rent-a-cops came by a little while ago and asked if we were going to go help out.”
Gary pondered. “Captain hear any of that.”
“I guess.” Russell said. “I mean, some bigwig with the airport has been in and out of here three times in the last half hour with messages.”
Gary saw Johnson straighten and give Roberts a nod, then turn. The sergeants, even those who weren’t looking in that direction, seemed to sense it almost immediately, and they were all facing the First Sergeant even before he’d taken the first step. Their eyes watched him as he came over, probing his expression for some sign of what was coming.
“Alright, I know you guys and your people are all wondering, so here’s the deal.” Johnson said as he joined them. “There’s a C-130 supposed to be landing for us sometime in the next ten minutes. We’re headed for Atlanta; gonna land at Hartsfield and join up with a detachment from Clay who’re supposed to meet us with wheels.”
“What for?” Murphy asked quietly.
“There’s a wide scale medical problem in Atlanta, it’s got the city in chaos. Downtown is a real mess.”
“I heard there’s rioting.” Gary observed. “I guess that wasn’t just bullshit?”
“No, it’s not.” Johnson said with a sigh. “Whatever this thing is, it’s raising seven kinds of holy hell.”
“What kind of medical problem causes a riot?”
Johnson shrugged in response to the question. “They didn’t tell me. But whatever it is, it’s real and it’s a big ass problem. And, just so you know, it ain’t just Atlanta either. News is coming in from all over about it.”
“All over, like, where?” Powell persisted.
“Raleigh, Orlando, Macon, Nashville, DC, New York, LA.” Johnson said without batting an eye. “You know, all over.”
“Shit.” the sergeants said quietly.
“Right. So, make sure we’re ready to hop on that damn Herky Bird when it comes rolling up so we can be on our way quick like rock stars, okay?”
The sergeants all nodded but before anyone could say anything further a loud shout that was halfway into a full on scream split the relative quiet of the hanger. Heads snapped around instantly to see a pair of soldiers rolling around on the ground about thirty feet away. The troops next to them were starting to rise, some to move clear, others to try and intervene.
“What in the hell is the matter with you two?” Powell roared, instantly running toward the fighting. The two who were on the ground belonged to his squad. “Break it up! Now. You listening to me?”
Gary studied the fight. After a moment he realized it wasn’t a normal fight. Or at least, it didn’t seem to be. Usually when two guys went at it, they were both flailing away, kicking and clawing each other for all they were worth. But here, only one of them seemed to be doing that. The other looked like he was just hanging on.
In fact, that’s exactly what was happening. The corporal had locked his hands around the shoulders of the private who was beating on his neck and back, ignoring the blows as he kept his head tucked in tight against the private. Gary blinked, trying to figure that one out. Was the private maybe just trying to protect himself until the fight was broken up?
Then he saw the blood. And not just a few drops. As the private who was doing all the fighting that Gary could see rolled both of them over again, he left a large smear of red on the paved concrete floor of the hanger. It seemed to be coming from his neck, and it was getting worse. There was now a decent stream of spurting blood arcing out past the corporal’s head from the private’s neck.
Powell arrived just as three other soldiers did, all of them reaching to separate the two o
n the ground. In fact it took six sets of hands to do the separating, and when they did Gary immediately raised his hands to cup them around his mouth. “Medic!” he bellowed.
Now that he was clear of his assailant, the injured private had his hands clapped onto the side of his neck. They were red to the elbow, where blood was rapidly staining the rolled up sleeves of his BDUs. There was a lot of it. The private was screaming incoherently, his only message that of pain.
One of the medics ran over with a green bag and dropped to his knees next to the stricken soldier. He pulled out a heavy dressing and ripped the sterile paper covering open, then leaned in as he slapped it down over the private’s hands.
“Move your hands Nelson. Let me in there or I can’t help you.” the medic said.
Gary transferred his gaze over to the corporal. Two soldiers had him by each arm, and they were having to work hard to hang on to him. He was tugging and pulling on them silently. There was blood all across his face like he’d been in a pie eating contest, dripping down from his chin and soaked into the front of his BDUs.
“What is your damned problem Georges?” Powell was shouting, having turned away from Nelson as the medic tried to work on him. “I have – woah!” Powell’s tirade was interrupted before it could even really start to build up a good head of steam as Georges leaned forward and tried to bite the sergeant. Gary saw it clearly, there was no mistaking it. The corporal’s bloody teeth parted, then snapped at the man shouting at him from only a few inches away.
“Jesus H. Christ!” Powell screamed, his face contorting with fury. “Are we a damned MP company or not? Someone get a pair of fucking handcuffs.”
Georges continued struggling against the soldiers holding him, and when Powell stepped back in disgust, the corporal started trying to turn on the two next to him. It was the most insane thing Gary had ever seen. It finally two five people, and they had to put Georges on the ground, to get the handcuffs on him.
“You, get on the damn hanger phone and call the Gordon for a detachment. He can sit on his ass in the base jail until we get done with this shit and can start the paperwork on his court martial.”
Better to be Lucky Page 1
