John Holmes - Even Zombie Killers Need a Break

“Check on Killeen!” I yelled as I raced down the stairs, then scrambled down the ladder to the first floor.

I waved at Brit to follow and told to Doc to go check out Killeen. We headed out the door toward where Ziv was carrying Red back to the building and helped put him down on the ground.

Brit ripped open his body armor and started feeling for blood. “Ow, dammit, that hurts,” grunted Red. She shone a flashlight onto his chest where a big purple bruise was spreading. A red mark showed where the ceramic front plate had been driven into his skin.

Brit kissed him on the cheek and yelled in his ear “Suck it up, you puss!”

“Ziv, Brit, get him inside.” I started to run back, but Docs’ voice came over the radio.

“Nick, Killeen is dead.”

“Roger, understood. You want us to reconnoiter the approaches to the Verrazano Bridge, see if it is serviceable, Lost Boys out.”

“Well now, ain’t that just a bullshit mission.” Brit said through a mouthful of #12 MRE, Penne pasta with vegetarian sauce.

Ziv stared at her. “How can you eat that crap? It tastes like cardboard.”

“You should see what it tastes like when I poop it out. Same consistency, too.”

“Maybe someday I will.”

“Over my dead body, Troll.” He did kind of resemble one as he sat there grinning with his bad European dental work and massive shoulders.

Doc laughed. “I think you’ve met your match, Brit.” Then he noticed the black bag with Killeens’ body in it. He sat for a moment watching Red digging a grave for him over by the fence, then got up to go back inside and check on the two unknown intruders whom we had found still breathing. One was barely alive and the other was babbling in a fever. We had no medicines for them. Or, more like none I wanted to spare for them.

“Obviously we aren’t going to walk there. It’s a few miles. We can take Highway 278 across the island, but I’m afraid that even if we can get there, getting back again will be a problem. We’ve got the gangbangers to worry about, and whatever Zulus get stirred up and traffic jams.”

We had patrolled down the road about a quarter mile, checking out the buildings and looking for any hidden observers left behind by the intruders last night. The road got progressively more jammed as you got out to the highway, and I was sure the eastern ramps to the Goethel’s Bridge over to Jersey would be a massive cluster.

“So, we have a mission from higher which can be done by us, take a day or so, and likely get the team wiped out. Plus we will have to leave two people behind with Desen. Doc and Red, probably, so that leaves me, Brit, and Ziv to recon through 12 klicks of one of the most densely populated areas of the country.”

“We’re good, but we ain’t that good, Nick.” said Brit. “Ever read Band of Brothers ? What Major Winters did when they wanted him to send out a useless patrol?”

Ziv grunted, and said “Yes, he told his higher that he had done mission, but not send patrol. We often do this in Serbian war when commanders are stupid.”

“Wow, he can read, too!”

Ziv laughed at her. “I am from foreign country, not stupid, Little Girl.”

“Great, now you two kiss.” I held up my hand to Ziv as he looked at me with a shocked expression and said, “But she is your woman!” Brit made a gagging sound.

“It’s just an expression. It means ‘let’s get on with what we were doing.’”

“You Americans with your slang.”

As far as Mid-Atlantic Command knew, we rolled out bright and early the next morning, made it as far as the interchange for I-278 and US 440, and had to turn back due to blocked roads. We actually used the time to clean our weapons and get some sleep. The last of the unknown shooters died just as the first Marine Osprey came thundering in and a squad rushed out the back.

Doc packed up his aid bag and stripped off his gloves. Before he had slipped into unconsciousness, the man had bragged about being a Crip, how they ruled the island, motherfuckers were going to pay, yadda, yadda.

I had seen it before. Gangs were often the only organized, well-enough armed and ruthless enough group to cope with the zombie outbreaks in an urban environment. They took what they needed to survive, from whoever had it. They often kept slaves and we had been seeing more and more of them turn cannibal as food got scarce. We negotiated with them when they were stronger than us, until we came back with more firepower. Sometimes they actually welcomed us.

Either way, it was the Marines’ problem now. I met their company commander as he walked across the container yard.

“Nick, I relieve you!”

“I stand relieved, Bob.” Another one of my buddies from our vacation in Bermuda.

“Looks like you had some trouble. Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner, Team Four was getting hammered in Philly.”

“We handled it. Local gang bangers running the show here on the Island. Looks like they had done a pretty good job of cleaning out the zombie problem, but I bet they will come back here with more firepower than that probe last night.”

“We can handle it. I’ve got a reinforced Rifle Company. We are going to hunt this place clean over the next month, zombies and scumbags alike.”

“Yeah, well there might be some regular civilians holding out, too. Seen it all before.”

“Agreed. Heard you lost a man. Sorry about that.”

I nodded, and then we both turned towards the dock area. A beautiful sight waited for us. A giant Roll On /Roll Off cargo ship was pulling up to the pier, pushed by a tug. Beyond it stood the knife-edge silhouette of the Reuben James.

“My company is going to hunt Staten Island. That ship contains the entire vehicle compliment of the 1 stBrigade, 1 stArmored Division. They are going to roll hot right over the Verrazano Bridge and shoot the shit out of Brooklyn, all the way to Floyd Bennet Field. Rangers will be dropping in next week to secure the airport, and the Old Ironsides tanks and Brads are going to roll up the Belt Parkway. Welcome to Forward Operating Base Killeen, Nick!”

I wanted to cry. I really did. My mind flashed back to the zombie hordes overrunning our position in the weeks of the plague, the madness of trying to survive alone those first months. I watched at the Marines set up a temporary flag pole and saluted as Old Glory was run up.

Brit came up to me as I stood there, watching them lower the ramp off the ship.

“Nick, check it out! New orders. WE’RE GOING BACK TO CIVILIZATION! HOORRRAAYYY!” She started dancing around me, chanting, “Clean sheets, bathtubs, clean sheets, bath tubs!” as I read the iPhone she handed me.

FROM: CDR@TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL

TO: LOSTBOYS6@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL

CC: LOSTBOYS5@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL; S3@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL; J3@JSOC,MIL; JFOPS@NAVY.MIDATLCOM.MIL

SUBJ: TDY of JSOC-IRST1

Nick, you and your team are being assigned temporary duty at Joint Forces Base Lewis-McChord as train-the-trainer instructors for Basic Training Cadre. Expect to be out of the field for 2 to 4 weeks. Bring your whole team, including attached elements. You can also be expected to be debriefed by the people at the Center for Army Lessons Learned.

Orders will be waiting for you at Fort Orange in Albany, then C-17 back to SeaTac. Try not to burn down the entire city of Seattle.

The interior of the C-17 Globemaster was packed to the limit, filled with reclaimed electronics, car parts, gold bars, all the loot of the modern world to keep the light of civilization burning. Reclamation teams followed the path of the Army, disassembling cars, recovering precious metals, siphoning gasoline. It was shipped to depots and sorted. The jewelry was melted down into ingots for easy transport, the gasoline and oil fed into fuel blivets.