John Ringo - Islands of Rage and Hope

“Mission purpose: Primary. Recover vaccine production materials, both fixed and consumable. Secondary. Recover general medical materials, fixed and consumable, for the squadron…”

“The objective is a six-story-high, two-wing building constructed primarily of reductive precast concrete…”

“Query,” Captain Smith said. “Reductive?”

“A type of concrete formulation discovered, or rather rediscovered, about ten years ago,” Dr. Dobson said. “It absorbs airborne and contact trace materials, including biologicals, and chemically reduces them. It was starting to be used in all hospital construction just before the Fall because it wipes out bacteria on any of the exposed concrete surfaces. This bunker we’re in was made from it. Rediscovered because there’s a Victorian era lion statue in London that has the same properties.”

“Continue,” Smith said.

“Primary objective is the west wing,” Wilkes said, bringing up a tighter shot. “West wing has patient rooms including the ICU and epidemiological quarantine rooms on the upper floors. Lower three floors are administration and labs including epidemiology and radiology. The primary supply stores for both are also in that wing. One of the survivors in Building Eighteen was a corpsman. He worked in the primary base hospital, rather than the ‘haji hospital’ as it’s called but he had been there several times. The following is a ‘best remembrance’ schematic of the location of all the primary objectives…”

“An hour briefing?” Faith said as they loaded the trucks. It was still predawn but the sun was going to be coming up any minute. “We’re just taking a fricking building. It’s not even the size of a small liner. Go in, kill any zombies, get the stuff. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ma’am, I’ve sat through longer briefings than that on how to do a parade mount,” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said. “It’s part of being in the Corps. You’re going to be doing briefings like that pretty soon, ma’am.”

“I’m not using PowerPoint,” Faith said. “I’m not.”

“With due respect, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “You’re in the Humvee. And not as gunner.”

“I liked the old Corps,” Faith said, frowning. “Board the boat, kill the zombies, get chow.”

“Did we have our apple juice this morning, ma’am?”

“Yes, we did, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said, taking a deep breath. “And it’s not even the twenty-sixth unless you were wondering. Looks like the lame and lazy are loaded. Let’s get this wagon train a-rollin’.”

The “haji hospital” was on the far side of a line of ridges south of the main base. As they crested the ridges, the hospital and “Camp Delta” came into view. Team one, led by Lieutenant Commander Volpe, had cleared the exterior zones of the Camp Delta area yesterday and found a few zombies and no survivors.

Nice view, though. Camp Delta was laid out on the shores of the Caribbean and it was a fairly peaceful day at sea. It basically looked like a sprawling cross between a prison and a Sandals resort. The hospital was on a hill west of the command complex for the Camp.

“This was not exactly the worst place in the world to be in prison,” Faith said.

“No, ma’am,” Kirby said.

“Except in a zombie apocalypse,” Faith said. “In which case, there was nowhere good to be in prison.”

Faith’s Humvee was not leading the parade. The convoy was led by two armed five-tons, then Lieutenant Commander Volpe’s Humvee, then Faith’s team, two more five-tons with gunners up in the cupolas, the command unit led by Captain Wilkes and finally the “Gitmo Marines” led by their surviving lieutenant who were “escorting” the “special salvage teams.” The “escorts” were in five-tons with the team members, including Sophia, in Humvees. If they had more Marine enlisted they’d nearly have a company. As it was, it was more like a reinforced platoon. There was even a corpsman along although he was with the salvage teams as a guide.

“All this parade needs is an elephant,” Faith said.

“Anything you want to talk about, ma’am?” Kirby asked diffidently. “You don’t seem to be your usual sunny self. With due respect.”

“I hate having to work with my sister,” Faith said. “Especially when, whatever Captain Wilkes thinks, she’s in charge. I don’t like being bossed around by Sophia. Pretty much covers it, PFC.”

“I…had an older sister, ma’am,” Kirby said. “I know the feeling.”

“I guess the fact that I can actually talk to mine should be a good reason for me to be happy,” Faith said, sighing again. “Message received, PFC.”

“That…I didn’t mean…”

“No. All good, PFC,” Faith said. “I need to adjust my attitude and get the mission done. Gung ho and all that. All good.”

Faith’s team had the job of doing entry from the rear of the hospital, which was the support and maintenance area. There was a fairly standard loading dock and roll doors with a personnel door to the west side. There were a couple of dead bodies on the loading dock and in the immediate area, all picked down to skeletons by seabirds and insects.

As soon as the Humvee rolled to a stop Faith unassed and waited as the rest of the team got out of their vehicles.

“Command, Team Two,” Faith radioed as soon as everyone was arrayed. “Personnel door is open. No apparent threats. Prepared for entry. Staff Sergeant, let’s get ready to roll.”

“Weapons on safe, lights on,” Januscheitis said. “Lance Corporal Pagliaro, point.”

“Aye, aye, Staff Sergeant,” Pag said.

“Roger team two,” Wilkes radioed. “ Begin entry. Careful on blue on blue.”

“Careful on blue on blue, aye,” Faith replied. “Which I’ll repeat. We’ve got Volpe’s team coming in from the front. Do not shoot Hooch, however much you might want to. Let’s roll.”

“Begin entry.”

“One-hour briefing,” Faith said, stepping over a rat-chewed corpse. “Nearly a division of Marines…”

“Reinforced platoon at most, ma’am,” Janu said, trying not to chuckle.

“And there is, like, nada,” Faith said. She stopped and looked in a room. More corpses. Some of them were kids. The hospital was packed with them. What there weren’t were any living infected. No water. “Which is the worst kind of clearance, Staff Sergeant. Trixie doesn’t like this kind of clearance.”

“Sort of have to agree with Trixie, ma’am,” Januscheitis said.

“Wizard, Shewolf,” Faith radioed. “This position was clear six months ago, over.”

“Concur,” Captain Wilkes replied. “ Position clear. Survey and Salvage team, begin ops.”

“I’m an electrician, not a radiological specialist, ma’am…”

PO3 Jared Osburn had spent most of his time since exiting the USS Dallas fixing the myriad electrical problems of the squadron. But this was the first time that he’d even seen the power set-up for a cesium X-ray machine. And he knew diddly about what it was actually putting out.

“We’re getting the right output readings, ma’am,” PO1 Shawn Hougo said. The “nuke” machinist mate did know diddly about radiological systems. Quite a bit more than “diddly” in fact. What might be tough for a radiological technician was basically day one of Nuke School. “It appears to be fully operational. This ward was not significantly affected by the results of the Plague.”

“The rest of the hospital sure was,” Faith said, shaking her head. “Can you pick it up and move it?”

“Carefully,” Hougo said. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll have to do it the same way that they got it in here: Take out a wall.”