Sever, p.3
Sever, page 3
He loved the old-world feel of the building. Generations of former New York National Guardsmen had walked on the original oak staircases and hardwood floors in the offices, including First Lieutenant William Turner, who was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his actions in World War I. This will probably be the last time I see the old place, he thought.
Where the hell did that come from? He’d see his adopted home of Hoosick Falls again, he told himself. The regiment was going to stop the zombies at the bridges and the regular Army was going to sweep in and wipe them out. That was the plan at least. The 10th Mountain Division—a light, truck-mounted organization—from the far northwest part of the state was already assembled in staging areas, just waiting on their opportunity to provide a counterpunch when the zombies stalled against the tanks of the 1st Battalion, 101st Cavalry Regiment.
Mike took the steps two at a time and pulled open the doors. The familiar smells of the timeworn armory hit him in the gut; it had been his home for almost five years as the commander and he would miss it. He’d been extremely lucky to be the commander that long. Most commands only lasted for twenty-four to thirty-six months, but the location of the unit in the middle-of-nowhere eastern New York and lack of armor-qualified officers in the Guard had allowed him to hold on. For the first twenty months, the company didn’t even have any lieutenants because the Army wouldn’t let anyone get out, sending them directly to duty on The Wall. Everyone thought that things had slowed down, though.
Until three days ago, the majority of Americans didn’t even know that zombies still existed in Washington, DC, let alone that there was the potential for them to escape. How fickle the American psyche could be once the network news moved on to a different story. Now that was coming to an end as the entire Eastern Seaboard was in jeopardy of being overwhelmed and tens of millions of people were potentially going to die. Unless the 101st Cavalry could stop the zombies’ advance.
He burst into his office and saw the phone sitting off the hook on Specialist Greeley’s desk. An unspoken question to the company clerk confirmed that the battalion commander was on that phone when the kid nodded his head and pointed at the receiver.
“This is Captain Miranda,” he said into the handset of the old rotary-dial phone that passed for the clerk’s office line.
“Jesus H. Christ, it’s about time! What the hell took so long, Michael?” Lieutenant Colonel Espenshade asked.
“I’m sorry, sir. I was out inspecting my tanks to ensure that they were ready for travel.”
“Hmm… Okay then. At least you were out doing what a good officer should do. Are the lowboys there yet?” he asked, referencing the heavy-duty semi-trucks which would haul the tanks to the city.
“Not yet,” he answered. “We got a call that they were en route about three hours ago, so they should be arriving soon. The cell phone lines are all down, so we can’t call the drivers to determine where they are exactly.”
The battalion commander’s gruff demeanor changed slightly and he asked, “How are your boys holding up?”
“We’re good, sir. Chaos Company is ready to kick some ass.”
“Well, there’s going to be a lot of targets for your men, that’s for damn sure. Looks like every resident from Philadelphia has been killed and—Shit, I’m sorry, son.”
The commander knew that Mike’s parents lived in Philadelphia. He’d even met old Marcus at the company activation ceremony before his father found out that Mike had quit his job to be a full-time National Guard soldier and stopped coming around. “It can’t be helped, sir,” Mike replied stoically. “If we don’t do our job, there will be millions of people without parents or children.”
“Well, I’m still sorry. I should remember to think before I speak. It looked like the initial zombie horde has swelled to gigantic proportions. Satellite imagery shows them spread out over a ten-mile wide area and they’re all moving steadily toward the city.”
“I’ve been thinking about that and about what Mr. Reston said. What if—”
“Remember, you’re on an unsecure line, Michael.”
The captain grinned despite himself at the stupidity of the Army and the absurdity of his boss’ statement. “Sir, it really doesn’t matter at this point. The secret about the zombies is out.”
“Shit, I guess you’re right. Okay, what were you going to say?”
“I think that there has to be a Type One with them. Why else would they all be making a beeline for New York? Everything that we’ve been briefed about the zombies when there isn’t a Type One present says that they just follow sounds or go after the nearest shiny object and attack it, but these guys are moving together as a unit toward one objective. Think about it, sir. If we lose New York—and the zombies can grow their numbers by that many people—then this fight may be over before it really even starts. They can simply sweep westward and take over the entire continent.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, son. That’s why Governor McDiarmid is insistent that we stop these fuckers before they can make it into the city.”
“Are we actively hunting for the Type One in the crowd?”
“Mike, you wouldn’t believe how many armed ISR assets are flying all over New Jersey and Pennsylvania right now looking for that bastard,” Lieutenant Colonel Espenshade answered. ISR was the military term for Intelligence, Surveillance and Reconnaissance, which was a fancy way of saying drones and spy planes. “If he shows his face, they’ll get him.”
“Alright. That makes me feel a little better, sir.”
“Okay, so besides waiting on transport, you have everything else that you need, right?” the battalion commander asked, getting the conversation back on track.
“I can’t think of anything else, sir. We picked up a hell of a lot of ammo for our .50 Cals and 7.62 machine guns, not too much 120-millimeter ammunition though, and we’ve also got four fuelers that will be traveling with us in the convoy to the city.” The 120-millimeter ammunition was the armament used in the tank’s main gun. It could punch through just about every type of armor there was, including concrete walls, but there likely wouldn’t be much use for it against the zombies, so Mike opted to use that storage space inside the tanks for machine gun ammo.
“Sounds like you’re set then. Alright, I’ll let you get back to commanding your unit, Mike. Good luck. Give me a call on the radio when you get set in your battle positions.”
“Thank you, sir,” he replied as the boss hung up the phone.
Mike set the phone down gently on the cradle and glanced at his clerk and asked, “You ready to roll, Greeley?”
“Yes, sir! I’m just sending an email to my mom,” the specialist replied.
“Good. I’m looking forward to having you on my tank.” He needed a driver because his normal driver had a broken arm and Specialist Greeley was the only soldier in the company who was qualified to drive the M1A2 who wasn’t already on a tank.
“Hey, sir,” the first sergeant said as he popped his head in the door. “Lowboys are here. Time to mount up.”
The commander nodded his head and patted his new driver’s shoulder. “Better hit ‘Send’ before First Sergeant Jenkins rips you a new one for not being down on my tank to load it up.”
*****
19 September, 1953 hrs local
Toby’s Pizza Palace
Rocky Mount, North Carolina
“Boomer, knock it off!” Asher scolded the puppy. She’d spent the last ten minutes barking every time somebody walked by on the street in front of the outside dining area where they sat. Toby’s allowed well-behaved pets on the patio, but Asher didn’t want to risk getting kicked out before he got a chance to eat.
He’d spent the day glued to the television watching the events in Philadelphia and Trenton, New Jersey unfold. The news showed that the creatures were everywhere, moving steadily northward toward New York. He’d frozen the image enough times to determine that at least half of the group was newly-turned. Their clothing wasn’t tattered and rotting away, but the biggest giveaway were the dark maroon stains that covered them. The blood had dried and worn off of the former Washington residents long ago.
He checked his cell phone constantly to see if anyone tried to call him, but it remained blank. No one from the Agency called Asher Hawke for the firsthand information and experience that he had in dealing with these creatures. What the American people needed now was the Army. All of it.
Eventually, hunger got the better of him and he didn’t have anything in his refrigerator or cupboard, so he was forced to go somewhere. Plus, it helped him stick to the story that he’d told Rachel about going to a study group if his truck wasn’t sitting in the driveway. He needed time to think about what was happening and what it meant that the zombies were moving toward the city. That was something he couldn’t do if he was defending himself against his neighbor’s advances.
The one thing that he was certain of was that they had a Type One with them. Those things were focused on one, common effort, so it wasn’t accidental or random. One of those smart fuckers was leading the horde toward New York City. The news made a big deal about the evacuation of the city, but no one commented on why they were heading that way. Asher thought he knew.
If they could turn even half of that city and swell their numbers by ten million, then they could split their efforts. Some could continue marching up the coast, moving city to city, while others could move west, some south. They’d spread like an unstoppable cancer once they reached New York. It was a sobering thought and Asher needed the beer that the waitress had brought.
He let his hand dangle over the arm of his chair and scratched Boomer’s ears idly while he wrote out a list of supplies on a notebook. The time to bug out was quickly approaching and he wanted everything set, ready to go. After a few quick notes he picked up his beer and took a long swig from the frozen mug. As he swallowed, he contemplated the people on the patio around him.
None of them seemed concerned that there was potentially a mass extinction event happening four hundred miles to the north. They all laughed and drank as if everything was normal; of course, maybe they were trying harder to appear normal in order to keep their sanity. Maybe they were miserable at the prospect of death and tried to cope with it in whatever means they could find. Or maybe he’d spent too much time talking with his psychologist and was trying to project his own feelings on those around him.
The waitress stepped across his line of sight and set down the steaming individual pizza that he’d ordered. It smelled heavenly and he had to slip his hand into Boomer’s collar in order to keep her off the table. “Need another beer?” the girl asked.
He glanced at his half-empty glass. By the time she brought it back, he’d be ready for one. “Yeah, sure. Same thing, please.” The waitress smiled and went back inside to get his drink.
Asher pushed the pizza toward the center of the table and released Boomer’s collar. She immediately stood up on her hind legs to try and sneak a bite. He pushed her paws off of his leg and spent a few minutes trying to teach her that it wasn’t okay for her to beg at the table. By the time he finally got her to understand that she wasn’t allowed up on his lap, the waitress had returned.
“You want me to take this and put it in the fridge?” she asked holding up the glass that she’d brought out.
“No, hold on,” Asher replied and downed the rest of his beer. “See, all better!”
The girl smiled again and set the drink down. “Let me know if you need anything else, alright?”
“Sure thing, but this is the last one. I still have to drive home.”
She nodded and turned to the next table to see if they needed help. Asher looked down at Boomer and said, “Alright, girl. Are you gonna let me eat in peace?” The dog looked at him and whined. He scratched her ear with one hand and picked up a slice of the pizza with the other.
Back to the problem about the zombies, he thought. It was a given that he should leave the East Coast. He knew that the Army would try their damnedest to stop the spread, but he’d been in combat against these things; what they lacked in brains they made up for with sheer numbers and tenacity. Unless they committed every possible force, maybe even nuking the place, then they weren’t going to be able to stop them. Hindsight being 20/20, maybe I should have supported the plan to go inside The Wall and eliminate the fuckers before they got out.
He’d almost finished his dinner when a familiar voice interrupted his reverie, “Asher! Hey, Asher!”
He turned and saw his neighbor Rachel and another woman standing outside the fence that surrounded the patio area. “Good evening, Rachel,” he called. “How are you?”
He winced when she opened the gate and led her friend inside. He liked his neighbor a lot, but he sure as heck didn’t want to have to make another excuse as to why he didn’t want to be around her without Jim present.
The two women sat at his table uninvited and Rachel waived her hand to get the attention of the waitress. “Asher, this is my friend Carly.”
He reached across the table and gently shook her hand, “Nice to meet you.”
“So, how did studying go?” Rachel asked.
“Oh, it was okay. Boring math stuff,” he lied again.
“I’m surprised you’re done so early. Jim used to be away for hours studying.”
“Don’t bring up that fucker, Rachel. Just relax and have fun,” Carly said.
Asher watched his neighbor’s face as she made a conscious effort to smile. “So your study partners didn’t want to come out for a drink?”
He laughed a little to give himself a moment to think. “None of them are even twenty-one yet. Besides, I’m way too old to hang out with them,” he replied honestly. He was too old to go to the study groups that the kids in his classes put together. His only recourse was to work harder on his own and pay attention in class when the instructor talked.
“Good point—Oh, hey,” Rachel said to the waitress as she walked up. “I’ll have a glass of cabernet.”
“I’ll have the same,” Carly stated from across the table.
“Do you want another one, Asher?”
“No, I have to drive.”
“Psh,” Rachel said with a wave of her hand. “He’ll have another one.”
The waitress raised her eyebrow at Asher. “Yeah, okay. One more, then I have to get home.” She nodded and headed inside to the bar.
“So what do you think about the zombies escaping and then destroying Philadelphia, Asher?” Carly asked.
“It’s… It’s a sticky subject. They seem to be headed for New York. If they aren’t stopped there, then I think that we’ll have a major problem—like the entire continent, not just a few cities.”
“You think they’re gonna make it to New York?” Rachel asked in shock.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I forgot that Jim is up there.”
“Big deal. I hope he gets killed by the zombies,” Carly said.
“Carly! Stop. He’s still my husband.”
“Not once you drop that envelope in the mailbox tomorrow. Then you’ll be a single woman again.”
Oh shit. Asher tried to remember the last time that he’d seen Jim next door. It had been a long time. Hell, it might have been before he went to DC last spring… Has it really been that long? Have I been that self-absorbed in my own grief? He picked up his glass and drank the rest of it.
It was uncomfortable and the girls hadn’t even had anything to drink. What would happen when one of them got some wine in them? Rachel looked over at him and said, “Jim left me. I’m embarrassed about it and—”
“Fuck that!” Carly said loud enough to make several customers look over. In a quieter voice she said, “That douche was cheating on you, with a bunch of different women.”
Rachel held up her hand. “That’s enough, Carly. Asher doesn’t want to hear about it. Let’s just try and have fun, okay?”
Carly’s lips were pressed thin as she suppressed an urge to say something else, but the waitress returned with their drinks, saving everyone from further embarrassment. She set the two wine glasses down and placed the beer in front of Asher. “Here you go. Did you want to close out, hon?”
“Yeah, I’ll go ahead and take the check,” he replied.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” the girl said and twirled away to get his bill.
Rachel picked up her glass and raised it. “To new beginnings,” she said.
He raised his beer in response and Carly reached across the table. She hit Asher’s glass a little harder than was called for and said, “Amen, sister!”
Rachel took a sip and then tipped the glass back, taking a large gulp of her wine. “Do you really think that the entire continent is in danger?”
He looked her in the eyes and replied, “Rachel, we’re in a world of shit—excuse me, I’m sorry… This isn’t going to end well. If the Army can’t stop them and kill every one of those things, then every person in North and South America is in danger. If even just one of them escapes, they can just start the chain of infection all over again.”
His neighbor stared back at his serious face and took another sip before asking, “Can they stop it?”
He sighed, “I don’t know. It’s tricky. I’ve read a lot about the first war with them. They took over the city fairly quickly and somehow they survived the nuclear detonation.”
“So we can’t even kill them?” Carly asked.
“No, they die—with headshots—but the bomb didn’t actually get them. I’m sure the ones who were right there for about a mile around ground zero were incinerated and killed, but the radiation didn’t do anything to the ones who weren’t.”
